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FROM NORTH CAROLINA 
TO SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA 

WITHOUT A TICKET s'^ ^ 
AND HOW I DID IT JJiS' 



GIVING MY EXCITING EXPERIENCES 
AS A "HOBO" 



BY JOHN PEELE 



^ 



published by 

Edwakds & Broughton Printing Company 

1907 



Tdf 



|ll!iaARYofCONeRES3| 

Iwv) Copies Hdceived !' 

JUL 22 i90r \ 

Dopyriffht Entry 
ilUSii ^ KXCm No. 

COPY u. ' 



Copyright, 1907, by 
JOHN PEELE. 



Sent postpaid on receipt of price, 50 cents in 
stamps. Address J. L. Peele & Bro., Tarboro, 

N. 0. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE. 

Off for California — My Troubles Begin in Wilmington — 
Taken for a Deserter — A Drummer Comes to My 
Rescue 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Run Out of Town by the Chadbourn Police — Cash Run- 
ning Low — Getting Schedules Mixed — The First 
Blush of Shame 20 

CHAPTER III. 

Snatched from Death — Forty-nine Miles on a Hand-car — 

Finding a Partner 30 

CHAPTER IV. 

"Look Out for Hoodlums!" — Retribution for Deception — 

Stranded in New Orleans — Meet With Kind Hearts . . 52 

CHAPTER V. 

A Hungry Ride of 308 Miles— "Hello, Hello in the Pipe 

There!"— To Work Again— Nabbed by a Cop 80 

CHAPTER VL 

Across the Line Into New Mexico — Barren Sand Hills — 

Jack Rabbits — Prairie Dogs — A Glorious Sunset, etc. 95 



4 Table of Contents. 

CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE. 

Get a Job in a Law Office — Dirty, Ragged Clothes Put 

Off — Smallpox Starts Me Off Again 105 

CHAPTER VIII. 
"For God's Sake, Give Me a Drop of Water" 109 

CHAPTER IX. 
Thrown Into Jail at Los Angeles 119 



PREFACE. 



After a good deal of persuasion upon the part 
of my relatives and immediate circle of friends, I 
have decided to write an account of a few of the 
many adventures and dangers that befell me 
Avhile making my way, practically without a 
penny, from Tarboro, North Carolina, to Tucson, 
Arizona; and thence to the stricken city of San 
Francisco, Cal., and other points of interest 
throughout the West, including New Orleans, 
Dallas, Texas, Fort Worth, El Paso, Dalhart, 
Texas, Alamagorda, NeAV Mexico, Juarez, Old 
Mexico, Bisbee, Arizona, Los Angeles, California, 
San Pedro, California, Searchlight, Nevada, Den- 
ver, Colorado, and more than a hundred other 
points of interest, coming back home on a tele- 
graphed ticket, via Chicago, Cincinnati, and 
Richmond, Virginia. 

The book bears no relation to fiction, as the 
reader will discover before reading many of its 
pages. The writer, believing it will be more in- 
teresting, will unreservedly show up all his faults 
and mistakes along the trip, as well as his good 
qualities. There is nothing in the book pertain- 
ing to the supernatural, nor is it of a highly sen- 
sational character, but the writer believes it will 
prove more than interesting to the intelligent 
mind. It is a true story from real life that every 
boy in America can read and profit thereby. The 
book is a record of facts and incidents, which 
were written down in shorthand, and transcribed 



6 Preface. 

at different stages of the journey by the author. 
The story is backed by the indisputable evidence 
of testimonials and correct addresses of the most 
prominent people with whom the writer came in 
contact. This book demonstrates the value of 
physical culture and education to the American 
youth as the author believes no other work upon 
the market has yet done. The writer graduated 
at the Massey Business College, Kichmond, Va., 
in bookkeeping, etc. 

Feeling the need of rest and recreation after 
several years of hard study at school, and being a 
great sufferer from asthma, the author, hearing 
of the dry and beneficial climate of Arizona and 
New Mexico to those who have weak lungs, de- 
cided almost immediately after leaving school at 
Richmond, Va., to go to Tucson, Ariz., and per- 
sonally verify these reports, and probably settle 
there permanently himself. 

The author, John Peele, of Tarboro, N. C, is 
just nineteen years of age, and though he had 
knocked about the world considerably prior to the 
opening of this story, he had heretofore always 
held a ticket to his destination. And now, dear 
readers, follow him patiently and he will attempt 
to show you how he turned the trick of getting 
West without a ticket. Trusting the book may 
be of value to mothers in restraining their way- 
ward sons to stay at home, however humble it 
may be, I beg to subscribe myself, sincerely, the 
author, John Peele. 



$50 00 REWARD. $5000 



I am a poor man, but if the darkey, who twice 
saved my life by catching me while standing up 
on the end of a loaded flat-car fast asleep, and 
preventing my falling between the wheels of a 
rapidly moving freight train about ten or fifteen 
miles from the town of Woodbine, Fla., on a cer- 
tain night in May in the year 1906, and who 
afterwards accompanied me forty-nine miles on 
a hand-car to Jacksonville, can prove his identity, 
by telling me what happened when we parted on 
the railroad in the suburbs of that city, and will 
communicate his intelligence to John Peele, Tar- 
boro, N. C, he will receive the sum of fifty dol- 
lars ( 150.00 ) . John Peele. 



TESTIMONIALS. 



Searchlight, Nev. 
John Peele was in my employ here for some 
time, first as porter, then as bar tender in the 
Searchlight Hotel. 

I hereby give Mr. Peele the privilege of print- 
ing this testimonial, both in his book and in the 
newspaper columns, advertising the book. 

Fred. Ullman. 

John : — Whenever you come out West again, 
you can get another job. You are all right. 

U. 



Ohipley, Fla. 

This is to certify that John Peele, being pulled 
down in this town from under the boiler of a 
morning passenger train bound for Pensacola, 
Fla., was employed by me at my brick yard. 

I hereby give Mr. Peele the privilege of print- 
ing this testimonial, both in his book and in the 
newspaper columns advertising the book. 

J. D. Hall. 




JOHN R. PEELE. 



From NortK Carolina to Southern California 
WitKout a Ticket. 



CHAPTER I. 

Off For California — My Troubles Begin in Wil- 
mington — Taken for a Deserter — A Drummer 
Comes to My Rescue. 

The details of my former life will not be given 
here, but as I stood waiting on the depot platform 
at Tarboro, N. C, with my brother Joe, who had 
come to bid me good-bye, one fine day in early 
]May, in the year 1906, I could, at least, say that 
no other chap of my acquaintance could name 
any more varied occupations in which he had 
been engaged than I could. 

I had been grocery clerk for my people at Tar- 
boro; water boy at the age of 14 at the Buffalo 
Lithia Springs in Virginia, where I made scores 
of friends from all parts of the country; dry- 
goods salesman for Chas. Broadway Rouss, New 
York City ; waiter in a Coney Island restaurant ; 
bell-boy in the Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York 
City; waiter in Buffalo, N. Y., where I had gone 
to be treated by the famous Dr. R. V. Pierce for 
asthma; traveling agent through the South for 
Jas. M. Davis, New York, with stereoscopic views, 



10 From North Carolina 

at which I cleared over |400.00 in one summer's 
canvass, nearly ruining my vocal organs; Bible 
agent through the country for J. S. Peele & Co. ; 
stenographer, bookkeeper, and scores of other 
things I engaged in, too numerous to mention. 

The train, which was to mark the beginning of 
more adventures, hardships and trials than I, at 
that time, could possibly imagine, pulled into the 
station at Tarboro, N. 0., and bidding my brother 
good-bye, I got aboard. 

I had four dollars in money, several letters of 
recommendation, and a ticket. Among the let- 
ters was a note of commendation, kindly given 
me by Mr. John F. Shackelford, of the Bank of 
Tarboro, and another one, equally as highly ap- 
preciated, from Mr. Frank Powell, the editor of 
the Tarhoro Southerner. The ticket was labeled 
Wilmington, N. C, and had been purchased 
merely as a blind to my parents, who were un- 
aware of the fact that I had come home from 
school ^'flat-broke," and as a consequence, of 
course, unable to purchase my fare to the West. 

Parting with my mother affected me no little, 
for it was my intention not to return home for 
several years. 

Tarboro was soon left behind, however, and 
now other and graver thoughts began to take pos- 
session of me. What was I to do in Wilminofton 
with only four dollars? And how was I to get 
out of the town anyway, unless I purchased 
another ticket? 



to Southern California. 11 

During all of my travels, I had never yet beaten 
the railroad company out of a penny, and just 
how I was going to board a train without being 
caught and locked up was the question. 

Little did I think at that time how expert and 
bold I was to become at this kind of thing before 
reaching far off Tucson, Arizona. 

The train pulled under the shed at Wilmington 
just after dark. It was with great reluctance I 
got out of my seat ; in fact, all the other passen- 
gers had alighted when I got my bundles together. 

I would have sworn that there was a big, blue- 
coated officer waiting to put handcuffs on me the 
moment I stepped from the car platform, but no 
such thing happened. Instead the whole train 
was deserted and the porter informed me that 
I had better hurry, if I wanted to get through the 
exit before it closed. 

Regaining courage, I hurried along in the di- 
rection the other passengers had taken, and a few 
moments later emerged on Front street, Wilming- 
ton's busiest thoroughfare. 

I was by no means a stranger to Wilmington, 
and, therefore, had little trouble in finding a 
good place at which to put up, without going to 
an expensive hotel. 

Leaving my few belongings behind, I started 
out afterwards to retrace my steps back to the 
depot and railroad yards for the purpose of ob- 
taining any information I could regarding the 
schedule of the trains. 



12 From North Carolina 

About midway the bridge, which connects the 
depot with Front street, I noticed two colored 
men engaged in watching the trains shift in and 
out of the yards. I at once decided that here was 
an opportunity to start the ball rolling, and ac- 
cordingly approached them and told them where 
I wanted to go. In return they informed me that 
they were not trainmen, as I had supposed, but 
were employed on the steamboat Perdy. 

The name of their Captain was Archie Marine, 
they said, and added that he was a good, free- 
hearted sort of a man, and might be able to help 
me get down the coast on a boat. One of them 
offered to conduct me to the Perdy' s wharf, and 
a short time later we were on board. 

The engineer of the boat was the only man on 
board when we arrived, and he informed me that 
the Captain hadn't shown up since late in the 
afternoon. 

A significant twinkle of the qjq accompanied 
this remark, and not being altogether blind, I 
concluded that the Perdy's captain was in some 
respects the same as all other sea-faring men. 

^^Do you know where he generally holds forth 
when on shore?" I asked. 

'^No, but probably some of the crew on shore 
can tell you, if you can find them," he replied. 

Disappointed, I made my way up town again. 

Entering a drug store, and calling for a direc- 
tory, I soon found Marine's residence address, 
raid a half hour later I had reached his home. 



to Southern California. 13 

Several children met me at the door, and in re- 
sponse to my query, summoned their mother, a 
very pleasant-faced woman, as I recall her, who 
at once seemed to know that I was in trouble. 

She gave me explicit directions how to find her 
husband. 

"Please tell him to come home at once, if you 
find him," she said. It was after 11 o'clock when 
I bade the lady good-night. 

After losing all this time, I was determined to 
find Marine now, if I had to traverse every street 
in Wilmington. 

Having canvassed views in the town, I had no 
trouble in finding the section the lady had di- 
rected me to. 

The place I entered was a kind of half grocery 
store and half saloon — the saloon, of course, be- 
ing: in the rear. 

On entering, my attention was directed to a 
party of four men, evidently seamen, judging 
from their language, who were in the front part 
of the store engaged in a conversation that could 
easily have been heard a block away. 

At last I felt sure I had cornered my man. 

It has always been my belief that I was espe- 
cially blessed with the knack of making friends 
with a stranger, and this talent, which is the 
only one I think I ever possessed, had certainly 
had ample opportunity in my varied life to de- 
velop into an art. 



14 From North Carolina 

^^Hello, mates !'^ I sang out, approaching the 
quartet with a smile — what wonders a smile will 
work when used right — "I'm looking for Archie 
Marine, fellows. Do you know where he is to- 
night ?'' 

Immediately one of the men stepped forward. 

''My name is Marine,'^ he said, ''What's up?" 

He had a pleasant way of speaking, and it was 
soon apparent that he embodied all the good 
qualities which the two darkies on Front street 
bridge had invested him with. 

"It's something important. Marine; come with 
me and I'll tell you." 

Without a word the man turned his back upon 
the jolly companions with whom he had been 
lately carousing, and together we left the place. 

We went two blocks up the street, and here, 
under the shelter of a drug store, I told him I 
wanted to get as far down the coast as Jackson- 
ville, Fla. 

He said he thought he could help me do so. 

"The boats no longer run from here to George- 
town, S. C," he said, "but there's a boat from 
Wilmington to Southport, N. 0., daily for sev- 
enty-five cents, and you can easily walk across 
the sands from Southport to Georgetown in a 
day and a half. You'll not be lonesome," he 
added, "for there are houses every few miles, and 
I'll write you a note to a friend of mine in George- 
town, who'll take you to Charleston, S. C, and 



to Southern California. 15 

another note to the engineer who runs between 
Charleston and Jacksonville/' 

This was great! I was to get nearly a thou- 
sand miles on my journey without incurring the 
risk of beating a train. The mere contemplation 
of beating a train seemed to stir up all the ani- 
mosity in my nature towards all train ofificials. 

What ! I, John K. Peele, the boy who had always 
been so careful at home about washing his face 
and keeping his clothes brushed, attempt to hide 
on a train, and beat his fare? 

No, I was to preserve my dignity and travel 
like a gentleman on a large steamboat to Jack- 
sonville, and then other means would surely pre- 
sent themselves, as probably another boat ran 
from Jacksonville to Galveston, Texas. 

Splendid idea! Why the trip was going to 
prove easy — a regular ^^cinch," and I could afford 
to laugh at the train people now, and that for a 
good long time, too, but alas! my joy was short- 
lived, for I was soon to learn the truth of the old 
adage : ^^The best laid plans of ttimes go astray." 

We entered the drug store, and Marine, after 
much effort, composed the notes, which he wrote 
down in my memorandum book. 

The following is a reproduction of one of them, 
verbatim, taken from the same little book, which 
I yet own : 



16 From North Carolina 

* ^Engineer, 

Mr. J. Dunn wil you bee kind enough to help 
my yung friend over to J. and let me hear from 
you oblige'' Archie Marine. 

I was also given a letter of introduction to his 
brother, William Marine, who is a very popular 
Jacksonville citizen, and who is superintendent 
of the Clyde Line Docks in that city. 

The author desires to publicly thank Mr. Ma 
rine through this book for that service, and feels 
confident, had he ever reached Georgetown, the 
notes would undoubtedly have been of much as- 
sistance. 

At 2 p. m. the following day I boarded the boat 
for Southport, and knowing how I was to travel 
on leaving home, I had only brought along one 
suit of clothes, which I had on. 

It was a nice fitting khaki suit, with prominent 
brass buttons, and seemed to be the very thing 
for the wear and tear of a long journey. It was 
a homeguard suit, though I was no homeguard, 
and had never been one, but purchased the suit 
just before leaving home. 

Now, as the reader may not be aware, South- 
port is a favorite camping resort of North Caro- 
lina's home guards, and as luck would have it, 
there was a company encamped there at this par- 
ticular time. 



fi^ri-.?^^,!?/,.'-*^'!- 





to Southern California. 17 

Up to this time I had paid no heed to what I 
was wearing, but it w^as soon obvious that I was 
attracting unusual attention. 

There were three or four men in blue uniforms 
on the boat, who seemed to give me their whole 
attention, for everywhere I went on the boat they 
would follow^ me and begin their whisperings, and 
it Avas fast becoming a nuisance, when, finally, 
one of them stepped up to me and asked : 

"Are you a home guard?" 

"I am not," I replied civilly, realizing my 
clothes warranted the question. 

"The reason I asked," he said, "there has been 
a desertion in one of the companies lately, and 
the description of the deserter fits you. If you 
were to land there now and suddenly make off 
across the sands towards Georgetown — I had in- 
formed him of my intention — you would quite 
likely be overtaken and held three or four days 
for identification," he said. 

Having never been a home guard, I did not 
know whether the man was playing a practical 
joke on me or w^as telling the truth, but I did not 
w^ant to be detained there for several days, and 
I was inclined to believe what he said was the 
truth. However, I did not betray this fact. 

Instead, I laughed and remarked that I was 
not afaid ; but all three of the men stoutly main- 
tained that they had tried to do me a favor, and 
seeing that I appeared to take it as a joke, one of 
2 



18 From North Carolina 

the men finally got angry and wished me all sorts 
of bad things, and said he hoped I would be ar- 
rested as soon as the boat landed. 

The cabin was filled with passengers, and soon 
it was the topic of conversation, and some thought 
I would be held, while others took the opposite 
side. 

Sitting almost in front of me was a well dressed 
man, whom, I noticed, had taken no part in the 
conversation, and he, catching my eye for a mo- 
ment, winked at me and arose and left the cabin. 

Soon after I followed him to a deserted part of 
the boat. 

^^I am a Philadelphia drummer," he said, ^^and 
don't know which side to stand on, but if you will 
go to the engine room, I will follow soon with a 
sample grip of cheap clothing, and you may pick 
out a cheap suit free of charge, if you will cut the 
buttons off your khaki coat and give them to me, 
and I readily agreed and the change was soon 
effected. 

Whether I was the victim of a practical joke or 
not, I have never learned, but if so, I was ahead 
of the game in the clothing by a long sight, for 1 
had selected a good, warm suit. 

And now the strangest part of all, I had de- 
cided not to land in Southport. 

It was seventy-two miles to Georgetown, and 
bad walking in the sand, I was told. 



to Southeim California. 19 

The more I thought of it, the sicker I became, 
and now what was I to do? Turn tramp? 

Never ! 

Beating the trains would be infinitely prefer- 
able, and I would go back to Wilmington and 
do so. 

The boat landed and discharged the passengers, 
when, to everyone's surprise, I remained on board, 
and just what they thought I am unable to say. 

Quite likely the Philadelphia dummer thought 
the joke was on him, for I had told him I was so 
eager to get to Georgetown. 

Passengers returning to the city now filed on, 
and in a short time the boat cast off and headed 
for Wilmington. 

On the return trip I noticed I was charged 
twenty-five cents more than when coming down, 
and I supposed the home guards were allowed this 
discount. We landed in Wilmington just after 
dark. 

My lodging, breakfast and dinner had deprived 
me of seventy-five cents, and the trip to South 
port had cost $1.25, which left me the sum of 
|2.00, but I had no occasion to regret my trip 
down the river, for as a result I was now wearing 
an early spring suit. 

All of my fond hopes of reaching Jacksonville 
easily were now cast to the ground. 

Gathering up my bundles and the khaki suit, 
I made my way on shore. 



20 From North Carolina 

CHAPTER II. 

Bun Out of Totvn hy the Chadbourn Police — 
Cash Running Low — Getting Schedules Mixed 
— The First Blush of Shame, 

It would be hard to describe my feelings as I 
started up town. I was hungry and ate a good 
supper, though I felt like crying as the cashier 
took my twenty-five cents, for I had never been 
penniless in a strange town in my life, and now 
my stock of nerve was weighed exactly by just 
what money I had left ; but the worst thing that 
hindered my progress, I was heartily ashamed of 
what I was going to attempt to do. 

Arriving at Market Square, I experienced no 
difficulty shortly afterwards in striking an ac- 
quaintance with a rather shabbily dressed young 
man, who seemed to know all about the trains. 

Finding that I was eager to leave at once, he 
remarked : 

"You have just about fifteen minutes to leave 
Wilmington on a freight train to-night. The last 
freight train pulls out at 8 :15 to-night, and it is 
noAv 8 o'clock.'' 

Luckily Avhat little baggage I owned was with 
me, and in another moment I was rapidly walk- 
ing to the place named. I quickly saw this 
wouldn't do, though, for it was nearly a mile to 
the depot, and turning into a residence street, I 
broke into a run. 



to Southern Califoi^nia. 21 

Panting for breath I reached the railroad 
yards. 

There was no sign of a train pulling out, nor 
was there one making up, and so far as I could 
see there was not the slightest evidence of life 
about the yards, and it began to look like another 
practical joke had been played on me. 

Just across the tracks at this point are a good 
many small tenement houses, for the most part 
occupied by colored people, who are employed by 
the railroad company. 

Calling out one of the occupants of these 
houses, I asked him if the 8 :15 freight had gone. 

''The schedule's been changed, and there ain't 
no 8:15 freight," said the darkey. "The last 
night freight for Florence left about an hour 
ago." 

To reach Jacksonville, I would have to go 
through Florence, S. C, and Savannah, Ga. 

^'If you'll go to Hilton Bridge to-morrow even- 
ing," said the darkey, ^'you might be able to catch 
a passenger train that passes about 3 p. m. on 
Sundays." 

Hilton Bridge spans the Cape Fear Kiver near 
this point, and all trains are required by the law 
to slow up before crossing. 

For this information the man received a but- 
tonless khaki suit. 

The next morning was Sunday, and after pay- 
ing my lodging I had but |1.35. 



22 From North Carolina 

Hardship was certainly beginning to stare me 
in the face at an early stage of the trip. 

Oh ! how I wished now I had stayed at home, 
where my every wish had been gratified by tender, 
loving hands, but it was too late ! My pride was 
up in arms, and I would see the game through to 
the bitter end. 

On this day I ate neither breakfast nor dinner, 
and early in the afternoon I repaired to the 
bridge to wait. 

The man who runs a small ^^pop shop" on the 
Wilmington side of the bridge amused me with 
stories of the many young men he had seen beat 
their way from this point, and I got him to tell 
me just how the others had done, and was be- 
coming quite brave, till he began describing how 
he had seen one man miss his footing, and showed 
me the spot where the cars had run over both legs. 

The train was coming ! And the supreme test 
of the trip was at hand. 

I took up a position at the curve, w^hich is 
about two hundred yards from the bridge. 

The engineer bestowed a quick glance at me as 
he passed, then his gaze wandered ahead. 

Grrabbing up the two bundles, which were hid- 
den behind a telegraph pole, I made a quick dash 
forward and succeeded in boarding the first coach 
from the engine, commonly known as the ''blind 
baggage.'' 

I didn't stop on the car platform, as is usually 



to Southern California. 23 

done, but crawled to the top of the tender, which 
was well loaded with coal. 

As near as possible I made things comfortable 
by placing the largest lumps of coal out of reach, 
thus enabling me to partly conceal myself by 
lying down. 

Exultation was now mingled with excitement. 

I had just begun to congratulate myself when, 
to my dismay, I noted that the train Avas slacken- 
ing speed. A moment later it stopped. 

Footsteps now sounded, hurriedly approaching 
the engine. 

I lay quite still, almost afraid to breathe, as the 
conductor and porter came up. 

"Come down from there! Come down!" cried 
the conductor. 

I raised up intending to ask him to let me go. 

"Come down, quick !" he cried. "Tramps and 
hobos are not allowed on this train.'' 

This was quite enough for John Eeginald Peele, 
and without any more ado he crawled down. 

My first impulse was to knock out my insulter 
with a lump of hard coal, but better judgment 
prevailed, and I soon reached the ground by his 
side. 

After all, I reasoned, he was only performing 
his duty in putting me down, and he was fully 
justified in calling me a tramp and a hobo, for I 
was not only acting both these parts very well, 
but was now looking the part. 



24 



From North Carolina 




'Come down quick!" he cried. "Tramps and hobos are not 
allowed on this train." 



to Southern California. 25 

Before boarding the train I had been spotlessly 
clean. Now my hands were black, my white col- 
lar soiled, and my new clothes nearly ruined. 

This was the picture I presented to a score or 
more of curious passengers, who had poked their 
heads out of the car windows to ascertain the 
cause of the delay. 

In deep shame I hung my head, and it seemed 
that everyone of those passengers had recognized 
me. This was mere fancy, of course, for I was 
then over a hundred miles from home. At any 
rate, there was one thing certain. I had been 
left and the train was now belching forth black 
smoke far up the road. 

Those who had witnessed my defeat from the 
^^pop shop" on the other side were now eagerly 
awaiting me as I recrossed the bridge, and they 
were ready with sympathy as I told them how I 
had been put down. 

^^That train goes to Charlotte, anyway," said 
the storekeeper. ^^I think the next one, which is 
due in about twenty minutes, is the Florence 
train.'' 

A good many men will live half their life in 
a place and yet never know the exact time a cer- 
tain train is due, nor where it is bound, and I 
would have to rely on my own luck, for it was 
quickly apparent that he was one of the class who 
are never profoundly sure of anything. 

Had I gone to Charlotte I would have been 



26 From North Carolina 

taken completely out of my way, at the very out- 
set, causing all kinds of trouble, and this served a 
good deal to show me the exact size of the job I 
had undertaken. 

Most of my fear had now vanished. No real 
harm had resulted in my first attempt at beating 
a train, and the tinge of excitement had proven 
quite fascinating. 

Of course the local authorities of the hundreds 
of towns I must pass through had to be consid 
ered, and indeed this was now my greatest fear, 
for, in a good many towns, as the reader is per- 
haps aware, a man caught beating a train suffers 
the penalty of from one to twelve months hard 
labor on the county roads. 

A second train was coming; and now was the 
time for me to make good ! 

This time I boarded the train without exciting 
suspicion. A repetition of my former antics 
quickly followed, and I was soon lying flat upon 
the coal, gripping the top of the tender now, 
though, for my uncomfortable bed of coal had 
suddenly assumed the motion of a cradle, as the 
result of the train's sudden increase of speed. 

Wilmington rapidly receded from view, and 
with a feeling of joy, savored with suppressed ex- 
citement, I closed my eyes for a moment. 

Where I was going and what I would do when 
I got there were thoughts that chased through 
my brain. 



to Southern California. 27 

I tried to picture far off Arizona, with its 
mountains and barren deserts, and wondered if it 
would cure or benefit my asthma — I would go di- 
rect to Solomonsville, Arizona, where our State 
Treasurer, Lacy, had been cured. 

Suddenly I sat up. 

^'What a fool I am," I muttered. ^'Sitting here 
in plain view, to be arrested at the first station 
we stop.'' 

In a few moments I had dug out a large hole in 
the coal and crawled into it, placing the largest 
lumps around the edge of the opening to help 
shield me from view. 

Every thing went well until about dark, when 
we reached the small town of Chadbourn, N. C, 
fifty-seven miles from Wilmington. 

Here the man at the pump house, which is lo- 
cated close to the depot, had seen an uncovered 
foot, and called the conductor's attention to it. 

The conductor, who was a good sort of a man, 
had discovered my presence on the train long be- 
fore reaching Chadbourn, and so had others of 
the train's crew. The man in the baggage car 
was even taking care of my bundles, which he 
had allowed me to deposit in a corner of the car. 

Unaware of the fact that I had been discovered, 
I lay perfectly still, afraid to move hand or foot, 
and it seemed to me the train would never start. 

Several people approached the engine, includ- 
ing a policeman of the town and the conductor. 



28 From North Carolina 

''Come down off that coal pile," cried the con- 
ductor. 

There was no mistaking the command, and 1 
crawled down. 

If I was a sight before, I was a whole show 
now, for I was smutty from head to foot. 

''I didn't know he was up there,'' said the con- 
ductor. 

Inwardly I thanked the conductor, whom I 
knew had been trying to help me along. 

''I'll take charge of this young man," said the 
policeman. 

"Please get my things," I said. "I hid them 
in the baggage car." 



to Southern California. 



29 




'I'll take charge of this young man," said the policeman. 



30 From North Carolina 

CHAPTER III. 

Snatched From Death — Forty-nine Miles on a 
Hand-car — Finding a Partner. 

Two-score people had seen me pulled down 
from the tender, and were now watching the re- 
sult of my sudden discomfiture with interest, and 
with a look of deep humiliation and embarrass- 
ment — for the most part assumed — for my vanity 
had materially suffered in that fifty-seven mile 
ride, I now stood in the presence of the policeman. 

Apparently I could not even look up at th3 
cruel, cold-staring crowd of country folks that 
thickly gathered around me. 

Evidently the policeman was touched, and un- 
aware of the fact that I was playing on his sym 
pathy, he questioned me as to where I lived, whero 
I was going, etc., all of which I answered in a 
straightforward manner, adding that I was going 
West to cure the asthma, and that I had letters of 
recommendation. 

I had several other letters of this kind in my 
pocket, but remembering that home reference is 
said to be the best, I selected only two from the 
bunch — those of Mr. John Shackelford and Mr. 
Frank Powell, and here I must beg their pardon, 
most humbly, for using their kind notes of praise 
like this, and am sure they'll forgive me, for I was 
in a tight box. 



to Southern California. 31 

After reading the two papers over carefully, he 
slowly remarked, with a puzzled look on his face : 

"Look here ! it's against my rule, but I'm going 
to let you go this time. Just scoot down that 
tj.ack, now, and remember," he added, as I started 
through the increasing throng, "if you return I 
shall run you in." 

There was nothing to do but walk, and I started 
down the tracks, walking — I knew not where. 

My scheme had worked and I was free, but far 
from being in a happy frame of mind. 

A small hand-mirror showed me a face that 
frightened me with its blackness, and my hands 
were in even a worse condition. 

"Oh, if my people could only see me now!" I 
mused. 

A sudden recollection quickened my pace — in 
the terms of the law I was a vagrant, and what, 
if the Chadbourn official should change his mind 
about letting me go. This was a phase of the 
case I had not considered before, being a vagrant, 
and darkness had settled down, and I had been 
silently walking along the pathway of the track 
for some time, when my melancholy musings 
were suddenly put to flight. A quarter of a mile 
ahead a light was shining. "Some farm-house 
built near the railroad," I speculated; "wonder 
if they'll give me shelter." Drawing nearer, I 
discovered my mistake. The light was issuing 
from the windows of a small store. 



32 From North Carolina 

A large railroad board in front of the place told 
me I had reached the town of Grice — containing 
three or four small dwellings, one store and a 
town pump; the place is hardly on the map, 
though it was a boon to me just now. 

On entering the store I was surprised to find a 
good number of people trading, notwithstanding 
the fact it was Sunday. 

Several darkies were in the place, and calling 
one of them outside, we headed for the pump. 

^'Been hoboing?" asked the darkey, beginning 
to pump water for me to wash. 

''Yes," I replied, not relishing his familiarity, 
"I'm going down to Florida." 

Now its a fact, though not generally known, 
that between South Carolina and Florida, both 
being warm sections, a good man^^ of the colored 
gentry are continually traveling back and forth 
the year round, but very little, if any, of this 
migration reaches up to North Carolina or Vir- 
ginia. 

"I'm going South myself to-night," said the 
darkey. "Can't I go along with j^ou?" 

My ablutions ceased. 

"Say that over again, my man. Did you want 
to go with me, you say?" 

He was a large, powerfully built fellow, with 
a face calculated to give a timid man chills, and 
that the suggestion frightened me, I must admit, 
for suppose he attacked me during the night, 



to Southern California. 33 

thinking I had money with me. Creepy sensa- 
tions began to steal over me, and yet it will be 
better than being alone, I thought. 

'^I know the ropes pretty well, young feller," 
he added. 

This settled it, for I did not know the ^^ropes," 
as he expressed it. 

''You may go with me," I said. 

I was dying for some kind of companionship, 
and being the possessor of unusually good 
strength myself, as a result of years of physical 
culture, I saw no serious cause for fearing my 
formidable looking companion, providing I could 
keep awake during the night, so, purchasing a 
bite to eat at the store and some smoking tobacco 
for my colored friend, Ave began to discuss a plan 
of action. 

''We'll have to go back to Chadbourn and lay 
for a late freight to-night," said he, "for the trains 
seldom stop in Grice." 

I was afraid the authorities of the town would 
nab me, but he only laughed at my timidity. 

We left Grice about 8 p. m. and set out for 
Chadbourn, some three miles off. We had gone 
perhaps a mile on the return journey when I ob- 
served another darkey leading up a close rear. I 
didn't like this for a cent, however I kept quiet, 
and our dusky follower soon came up quite close. 

My grandfather, Dr. Hicks, of Rocky Mount, 



34 From North Carolina 

N. C, famous for his writings and adventures of 
Civil War life, has many a time illustrated to me 
where strategem is better than strength. 

On one occasion, when he was a young man, he 
was proceeding along a lonely country road. It 
was nearly dark and several miles to the nearest 
house, and in those days houses were scarce and 
the people were more lawless, and, suddenly, a 
thick set, fierce looking man, holding a stout cud- 
gel in his hand, emerged from the dense woods, 
which were on either side of the road, and began 
quickly to overtake him. That my grandfather 
was pretty well scared can well be imagined, but 
being a ventriloquist and full of tricks, he soon 
dispatched his enemy. Glancing into the woods 
nearby, he shouted : ^^Come on Jim !'' then using 
his powers of ventriloquism, a hoarse voice close 
at hand seemed to say, ^^All right, be there in a 
minute.'' 

The next moment the man who had been fol- 
lowing him plunged deep into the forest and 
grandfather was left to proceed alone. 

That these two men were in collusion and had 
designs on robbing me I now felt convinced. 

Our late addition had drawn up dangerously 
close. 

It was pitch dark, and evidently he was una- 
ware I had discovered his presence in the party, 
and the other fellow was exerting himself about 
this time to keep me entertained with stories of 
"hobo" life. 



to Southern California. 35 

It was up to me to use strategem, and use it 
quick ! 

''Confound the luck!" I exclaimed, ''I forgot 
those pistol balls back at the store, but it is all 
right, Bill" — Bill was the name he had called 
himself at the pump — ''my little Iver Johnson is 
full loaded, and good for at least five brakemen. 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! they had better let us go through to 
Florence, I guess." 

Most darkies are afraid of a gun in a white 
man's hand, and these were no exceptions. 

The third man was not long in speaking out, 
and as if he had just joined us. 

"Howdy, gentlemen," was the expressive salu- 
tation, "going over to Chadbourn?" 

"Yes," I retorted. 

"We's gwyne down to Florida," supplemented 
Bill. 

"Dat's strange, I'se gwyne dat way myself/' 
muttered the darkey, "let me go too." 

"We don't own de roads," shrewdly observed 
the man named Bill. 

"Well, I'll go den," declared the newcomer, and 
thus they arranged it to suit themselves, and I 
said nothing, though I mentally concluded to 
shift them both at the first opportunity. 

One at a time we filed across the main street of 
Chadbourn an hour later, and, undiscovered, 
made our way to a large pile of railroad ties some 
two hundred yards from the depot. 



36 From North Carolina 

The darkies, unconcerned, stretched out full 
length upon the timber, and their heavy snoring 
soon denoted that they had passed into the land 
of dreams, but their lively trombone music 
quickly became disgusting, forcing me to seek 
another pile of the timber for rest. 

My thoughts drifted back several years to the 
scores of positions and hundreds of places I had 
been in, but none ranked so low as this; and 
again, thoughts of the warm, comfortable home 
I had left stole over me. 

About midnight my reveries were disturbed by 
the labored j)uffing of a heavy laden freight train, 
which had just begun to ascend the long grade 
outside of Chadbourn. 

My companions were awakened and had silently 
joined me in the darkness. The train had pulled 
up the grade now and the cars had attained a 
dangerous speed. 

As the engine dashed by, my companions came 
near knocking me down in their greedy endeavor 
to secure the handles of the first two cars from 
the engine. 

With the throttle open a car's length is a se- 
rious matter to the man on the ground, but I 
caught the third car safely and climbed aboard. 

Chadbourn was left like a flash, and a few mo- 
ments later we went hurling through Grice like 
a shot out of a gun. 

The train was a through freight, and we were 
bound for Florence. 



to Southern California, 37 

Crawling back on my hands and knees through 
the darkness several car lengths, I found an 
empty coal car. In this car I would be shielded 
from most of the cold wind, which was blowing at 
a terrific rate over the top of the train. 

Carefully descending to the car and peering 
over the edge I was surprised to find another pas- 
senger, a mild looking mulatto, who, upon find- 
ing that I was not a brakeman, as he at first had 
supposed, became quite sociable. 

'Tm also bound for Jacksonville," said he, 
"and we'll go along together.'' 

The proposal suited me to a T, as he added that 
he was an expert at the business, having been 
over the same road several times before, and 
knew every move to make to avoid being 
"nabbed." 

The other two men now got into the car, at 
which the mulatto immediately drew off to the 
opposite end. 

"Two together is safer," he said, as I joined 
him. 

A drizzling rain set in and we were left to our- 
selves. 

"What have you got there?" he asked, some 
hours later, stumbling against my paper bundles. 

"Medicine and clothes," I retorted. He laughed. 

"You'll never get to Jacksonville with all that 
truck," he said. "You'd better get clear of it." 



38 From North Carolina 

So far my baggage had been a source of con- 
stant annoyance, and I, therefore, readily agreed 
to part with it. 

It had ceased raining now, and the dim light 
in the east told of the near approach of day. 

The lights of Florence could be seen faintly 
gleaming in the distance as we rapidly drew near, 
and there was no time to lose, so throwing off 
coat, shoes and hat, I quickly tore open both 
bundles, and out in a heap rolled shirts, collars, 
socks, photographs, cough syrup, quick asthma 
cures — ^but space forbids naming all the things. 

The bundles had been carefully packed by a 
loving mother, who had thoughtfully placed in 
one of them a small Bible. I felt better as I 
placed the little book in an inside pocket, and I 
would read it and daily pray to God to take me 
safely through the long journey before me. 

My next move was to astonish the negro at the 
number of shirts and socks I got into. 

'Tut on all you can and be quick,'' I exclaimed, 
in answer to his questioning gaze. 

He needed no second invitation, and I now be- 
gan to stuff my pockets with the smaller things, 
again inviting him to follow suit. About the first 
thing he grabbed up was a |1.50 razor, which I 
politely deprived him of. 

Within a few minutes the train slackened speed 
and pulled into the yards. 



to Southern California. 39 

Quickly alighting and bidding me to follow, 
the negro made off from the tracks at full speed. 

At first I thought he was running away with 
my things, but the wisdom of the move was soon 
apparent, for at a safe distance, he pointed out 
to me two slow moving lights going up and down 
both sides of the train we had just deserted. 

^^Spotters,'' he whispered, breathing heavily. 

I realized then just how green I was at the pro- 
fession of hoboing. Undoubtedly I would have 
again been picked up, and this time it might not 
have gone so easily with me as at Chadbourn. 

For nearly an hour we walked about the streets 
of Florence looking for a restaurant, but it was 
yet too early for them to open, and, disappointed, 
we returned to the railroad yards. 

Two or three trains were beginning to pull out 
when Ave arrived. 

Plunging between two long freights, and walk- 
ing rapidly, my companion began to scan the car 
doors. 

''In here," he presently whispered, drawing up 
before an empty car. ''This is the Junction train, 
and will leave in a few minutes." 

Afraid of going wrong and being pretty well 
frightened, I hesitated. 

"What Junction? Are you sure this is the 
right train?" I questioned, fearing the cars might 
be made up for Atlanta or Columbia. 

His reply was to furtively glance up and down 



40 From North Carolina 

the tracks, and the next instant he had vanished 
through the half open door. Greatly frightened, 
I followed. 

Quickly and silently we closed the door, leav- 
ing us in impenetrable darkness. 

It was not long before an engine bumped 
against the cars, and shortly after we pulled out. 

The day dawned beautiful and clear, and be- 
ing warm, we opened the car door to enjoy the 
sunshine. 

We had gone some fifty or sixty miles down the 
road, perhaps, when the mulatto declared his in- 
tention of getting out to buy something to eat. 

^^You had better stay in here," I called, but the 
next moment he was gone. 

To my dismay a few minutes later the train 
slowly began to move off, then faster and faster. 

Downhearted, I sat down in the end of the car 
alone. The wheels began to roar and sing with 
increasing speed. Once more I cast a last despair- 
ing glance at the door. Suddenly a hand was 
thrust into the opening! In a flash it had dis- 
appeared. 

Rushing to the door and looking out I was hor- 
rified to see the man who had lately left me lying 
helpless, stretched upon the ground. 

No doubt, in jumping he had miscalculated the 
position of the rod under the door, and as a result 
of the misstep, had been thrown from the car 
with considerable force. 



to Southern California. 41 

Being unusually intelligent, and of a quiet kind 
of disposition, I had taken quite a fancy to the 
fellow by this time, and it was with a sigh of gen- 
uine relief I noted he had not been run over. 

Struggling to his feet with one hand pressed 
against his head, he waved to me for a moment 
and then slowly staggered off the pathway of the 
track. 

The man who had claimed to be an ''expert'' 
vras left, and I Avas soon miles away, but such is 
life. 

Going back into the car, and being exhausted 
from hunger, I soon fell asleep. 

My last conscious thought was a desire to wake 
up in Savannah, Ga. 

Two hours later it would be time to change 
trains at Charleston Junction for Savannah, but 
being blissfully ignorant of this fact, my slum- 
bers were undisturbed. 

I slept long and sound — then with a start 
awoke. 

The car was no longer moving. I listened in- 
tently for a brakeman, but the grave-like silence 
was unbroken. Darkness had long since settled 
down. Now fully awake and being of a logical 
turn of mind, I began to speculate. Evidently, 
we had run into Savannah late at night and were 
now in the train yards. Noiselessly I tiptoed to 
the door — imitating my late companion — and 
with great caution poked my head out. 



42 



From XortJi dnoUna 




'Surely my hunger must be causing some horrible nightmare — '■ 



to Southern California. 43 

The moon was just rising from behind a dis- 
tant cloud-bank. 

Surely my hunger must be causing some hor- 
rible nightmare, and directly in front of me was 
a large cabbage patch — the largest I had ever 
seen, in fact. 

Countless thousands of cabbage were growing 
on every hand, and as far as the eye could reach 
large nice ones they were, too, some of them grow- 
ing so close to the railroad track as to be almost 
under my feet. 

I had eaten but once since my arrival in Wil- 
mington Saturday night from Southport, and it 
was now Monday night. 

I ceased to remember I was trying to reach Sa- 
vannah, nor did I speculate long as to the reality 
of the vision before me. 

Springing from the car door into the patch, I 
sat down before one of the largest of the vege- 
tables and had eaten nearly half of it when I 
heard some one approaching. 

With a guilty start I sprang to the railroad 
track. 

Xow would be a good time to locate my posi- 
tion. 

The man soon came up. 

''Hello I my friend, how far is it to Savannah?'' 
I asked. 

''About 150 miles, sir," said the man looking at 
me curiouslv. 



4:4: From Xorth Carolina 

The truth dawned upon me instantly, while 
sleeping- I had been switched off on the wrong 
road. 

The man started down the track. 

''Say, hold on there a minute !" I cried. ''How 
far is it to Charleston Junction?" 

"Forty-seven miles," replied the man. 

"Well, how far is it to the next town, then?" 

The fellow's short answers were exasperating 
in the extreme. 

''Three miles," he hollered, fast getting out of 
ear shot. 

I must confess I completely lost temper. 

Making a trumpet of my hands, I shouted : 

"I say, you escaped lunatic, what is the name 
of the town?" 

"Meggetts," came back the faint reply, and the 
man passed out of range. 

The solution of the problem was now easy. 
Not knowing I must change trains at Charleston 
Junction, I had been carried forty-seven miles 
out of my way down a branch road. 

Twenty-four empty box- cars had been side- 
tracked to be loaded with cabbage, and I had 
been in one of the cars. 

After an hour's walk I arrived at Meggetts. It 
was near 11 p. m., though all the stores, five, I 
think, were open. 

Appeasing my hunger at a small restaurant in 
the place, I had just |1.05 of the original $4.00 I 
had left home with. 



to Southern California. 45 

Upon inquiry, I found that a freight would 
leave Meggetts at 2 a. m. that night bound for the 
North. 

The train was loaded with early vegetables, 
and I was told would make a short stay at the 
Junction. 

Eighteen colored men, whose homes were in 
Charleston, boarded the train that night when I 
did. The men had been sent down from Charles- 
ton to help load the train. 

The brakemen, whose instructions were to let 
the men ride free kept to themselves on the train, 
and without stop we ran back to the Junction. 
The men clamored down and were soon walking 
the remaining few miles to their homes. 

There are several tracks at Charleston Junc- 
tion, but before departing the men showed me the 
track leading to Savannah. 

About daylight a freight pulled upon this track 
and came to a short standstill. 

Once more I was fortunate in finding an empty 
car, and getting into it unobserved. 

I was not absolutely sure the darkies had not 
deceived me, but then a man beating the roads 
has got to take all kinds of chances, and I was 
fast learning the fact. 

At noon that day I arrived safely in Savannah, 
that is to say, I arrived within a mile of the town 
proper, where I ran the risk of breaking my neck 
by jumping off, but that was much better than 



46 From North Carolina 

being pulled into the yards in broad open day- 
light to be arrested. 

There is one thing peculiar about Savannah, 
which can't fail to impress a stranger on his first 
visit. For the size of the town, I think it con- 
tains three times as many colored people as any 
other city in the United States. 

That afternoon I found the time to read a chap- 
ter in the little Bible my mother had given me. 
I shall always believe it was the work of a kind 
Providence that sent me upon the streets of Sa- 
vannah that night in quest of some one to go with 
me to Jacksonville. Luckily for me this time too, 
as subsequent events will prove. 

It was past midnight. Again my conveyance 
was a freight train ; this time bound for Jackson- 
ville, Fla., and again I had a darkey for a travel- 
ing companion. 

We boarded the freight one mile from the city 
limits at a slow-down crossing. There was no 
empty car to get into and the only other place 
was on the end of a loaded flat-car, where we 
were shielded somewhat from the cold winds 
blowing over the train. 

The rain was coming down in a steady down- 
pour, and had been for two hours or more. 

We were still standing close together on the 
end of the car, and had entered Northern Florida, 
and lying or sitting down in the rain would have 
been courting death of cold. There was nothing 



to Southern California. 47 

to do but stand up and take our medicine quietly. 
The cold winds had chilled us to the very marrow. 

Weak and faint from the loss of food and sleep, 
and from the high nervous strain I had been sub- 
jected to, I was fast becoming insensible. 

I forgot that I was standing on the end of a 
wildly rocking flat-car rushing through inky dark- 
ness at the rate of forty miles an hour. The dan- 
ger seemed fading away now, and I imagined I 
was home again resting in my own comfortable 
bed. The limit of human endurance had been 
reached, and poor, exhausted nature gave up the 
battle. 

Slowly my eyes closed. "It will be for just one 
sweet moment, just one," I promised, and the 
next instant I was fast asleep. 

Two rough hands reached out and encircled me 
about the waist just as I was toppling between 
the swift running cars, and drew me back to 
safety. 

"Good God ! young feller, don't trifle wid your 
life like dat," exclaimed the frightened darkey. 

In a vague way I realized my danger and prom- 
ised to do better, but I was too sleepy to be much 
frightened, and inside of a half an hour I had 
again closed my eyes, promising not to go to 
sleep, but the promise was broken, and once more 
I was indebted to the faithful colored man for 
saving my life. 



From North Carolina 




"Good God ! young feller, don't trifle wid your life like dat,' 
exclaimed the frightened darky. 



to Southern California. 4'9 

It was now breaking day and the train was 
slackening speed. The next stop was Woodbine, 
Fla. 

Here the conductor discovered us and we were 
put off. 

It was not long before the stores opened up. 
There are but two or three stores in Woodbine^ 
though one of them is a very large one. It was 
in this store we got something to eat. 

A young lady waited on us, who informed me 
that Jacksonville was forty-nine miles away. 

Guessing our intention, she remarked: "You 
can't walk it, for twelve miles from here is a 
long trestle, which is patrolled by a man with a 
Winchester rifle. He is in the employ of the 
government and it's his duty to see that no one 
crosses over on foot. Every twelve hours he is 
relieved by a man who watches the bridge at 
night." 

"When is the next freight due?" I asked. 

"To-morrow morning," was the reply, "it's the 
same one you just got off." 

Things Avere beginning to assume a gloomy 
aspect. 

"Is there a ferry?" I asked, brightening up. 

"There was so little travel the ferry was aban- 
doned over a year ago," replied the young lady. 

"Well, good-bye ; if there is no other way, we'll 
have it to swim." 

We had gone probably a mile down the track 
4 



50 From North Carolina 

and had begun to look out for a place to put in a 
few hours sleep, when looking back, I was over- 
joyed to discover a hand-car rapidly overtak- 
ing us. 

Stepping into the middle of the track I sig- 
nalled the car to stop. 

^'Hello, captain! we want to help you peddle 
that car across the bridge. Do you go that far?" 

^'Yes, I'm the track inspector, and go as far as 
Jacksonville," was the reply. 

''Let us go?" I questioned. 

''I don't know ; I need two more men, but white 
men, as a rule, are no good peddling these cars on 
a long run," was the retort. 

^'I'm as strong as either of the two men now 
propelling you, sir," and, to prove the assertion, 
I rolled up my sleeve. 

The man's eyes opened wide in astonishment, 
for notwithstanding I'm an asthma sufferer, his 
gaze rested on an arm that had undergone five 
years of hard physical culture training. 

"You may go," he said, ''and I'm glad to get 
you." 

We passed the man with the Winchester rifle 
safely, and at 3 p. m. I got off in the suburbs 
of Jacksonville, parting with the darkey, who is 
the right owner of the reward offered in the front 
pages of this book, and whom the track inspector 
had engaged for railroad work at fl.OO per day. 

It was nearly two miles down town, and being 



to Southern California. 51 

fatigued from my recent exertions, I invested five 
cents in a street car ride. 

The car was full of gaily dressed people, white 
being the prominent color, all of whom seemed 
bent upon some kind of pleasure, judging from 
their happy faces. 

Race prejudice is strong here. Half the car 
was devoted to the white passengers and the other 
half to the colored, and is rigidly enforced. 

The gay costumes on the streets, and the brisk, 
business-like air of the people, next attracted my 
attention. Nearly all of the streets are broad 
and well paved, and some of the business blocks 
remind one of Baltimore, Md. The whole scene 
was an entire surprise to me. But what im- 
pressed me more than all else was the long line of 
beautiful palms, extending quite close on either 
side of the street car line. 



52 From North Carolina 



CHAPTER IV. 

''Look Out for Hoodlums'' — Retribution for De- 
ception — Stranded in New Orleans — Meet with 
Kind Hearts. 

I left the car at a point near the Clyde Line 
docks, and shortly after succeeded in finding 
William Marine — Archie Marine's brother — who 
informed me that the boats were no longer run- 
ning between Jacksonville and Gulf points. 

^^There's but one way I could help you, young 
fellow. If you desire, I'll get you on a boat, as 
a cook's assistant, that will take you to New York 
City, from which point you might be able to work 
your way to San Francisco on an ocean liner." 

•'I thank you, but will risk working my way 
overland," I replied, and left the wharf. 

Sometime during the afternoon I smeared 
nearly a whole bottle of vaseline upon my face 
and neck, which had begun to burn like fire, as a 
result of my exposure to the sun while peddling 
the hand-car. 

At 9 p. m. that night I made my way to the 
Union Depot. Some five or six passenger trains 
were under the shed. A man in the crowd pointed 
out to me the train he thought was bound for 
New Orleans. 

Five minutes later I was in the express car. 

A pleasant looking young man, I should say 



to Southern California. 53 

about twenty-two years of age, was checking off 
the express, assisted by an older gentleman. 

''Does this train go to New Orleans?'' I asked, 
lowering my voice to a whisper. 

"No, it goes to Montgomery," replied the young 
man, eyeing me closely for a moment, and then 
turning to his work. 

''May I go with you to Montgomery?" I whis- 
pered. 

The young man again glanced at me, but vouch- 
safed no reply. 

Though not well known, it's no less a fact that 
most roads of the United States to-day employ 
numerous detectives — known as ^spotters' — who 
travel over the road in various disguises, and 
whose business it is to discover any employee of 
the road assisting some poor chap to beat the 
train. 

Sometimes the detective thus employed dresses 
himself like a tramp or hobo and appeals to the 
engineer, baggageman or conductor to help him 
get to a certain point. 

Woe be unto the kindhearted employee who 
does help him, for a few days later he is dis- 
charged almost without notice. 

Later on he finds that his goodness of heart was 
bestowed upon a railroad detective. Those who 
understand this can more easily appreciate my 
present difl&culty. 

Desperate diseases require desperate remedies ; 



54 From North Carolina 

and I hereby admit that I told the express mes- 
senger a falsehood. 

There was little time to lose. Every moment 
the express packages were being hurled through 
the door, and the train would soon be ready to 
depart on its long four hundred mile journey. 

^^I can show positive proof, in the way of let- 
ters, etc., that I'm no ^spotter,' '' I whispered. 
^Tor Heaven's sake don't refuse, old man. My 
parents formerly lived in North Carolina, as the 
heading of this reference shows, but years ago 
they moved to Texas, and I went to New York. 
My parents are poor and I'm their only support. 
Having been robbed in New York and learning 
by letter that my mother is near death's door, 
I've decided to work my way to her. Pardon me 
saying it; you look to be a pretty square sort of 
fellow. Please don't refuse the chap who stands 
before you down and out this time." 

The work of checking up had been finished, 
and the elderly man, after whispering something 
in the young express messenger's ear, crawled out 
of the car door to the ground. 

A moment later the door shut with a bang. 

I had succeeded, and five minutes later was 
again traveling up the road without a ticket. 

I've confessed to telling a lie, and I must now 
confess to having acted the part of a fool. 

I had been sleeping on some express packages 
in the forward end of the car, and upon awaken- 
ing glanced at my watch. It was 4 a. m. 



to Southern California. 55 

Throughout the night the train had been run- 
ning at a high rate of speed and I figured we 
ought to be somewhere near Montgomery. 

It'll be a great joke to tell him where my home 
really is, and to let him know how I fooled him, 
for being near Montgomery, he'll hardly trouble 
to put me down anyway now, I reasoned, and 
without thinking, I gave him the w^hole story of 
just how neatly I had deceived him. 

Instantly the young man's manner changed. 

"So you fooled me, eh ! Well, the next stop is 
Valdosta, Ga. You'll have to get off there," was 
the sharp retort. 

A half hour later I was walking the streets of 
Valdosta, a much wiser man. 

How true is the old saying : ^^A wise man keeps 
his tongue in his heart, but a fool keeps it in his 
mouth." 

It Avas near daylight and bitter cold. A night 
cop directed me to a lodging house. After I had 
rung the bell several times the landlady appeared. 
She had hastily dressed and, with a frown on her 
face, stood shivering in the cold. 

"Madam, have you any vacant rooms?" 

"You might share a room with my son," she re- 
plied hurriedly. 

"Thank you ever so much. What will it cost?" 
I asked. 

"Twenty-five cents," was the pistol-like retort. 
"Do you want the room?" 



56 From North Carolina 

^'1 now got to the point. 

"Madam, the night is most over, and my money 
is low ; would you accept 15 cents for the rest of 
the night?" 

"I suppose I shall have to let you in," she said. 

Five minutes later I had waked up her son, 
who began saying uncomfortable things about 
some people coming in at all times of the night; 
but the remainder of his remarks fell on deaf 
ears, for I was fast asleep. 

It was the first bed I had been in since leaving 
home. 

About 10 a. m. I awoke much refreshed. 

The depot was close by, and the ticket agent in- 
formed me that the train bound for Madison, Fla., 
would pull out in a few minutes. 

The fare from Valdosta to Madison is eighty- 
live cents, and I only had sixty cents. 

Acting upon the impulse I boarded the train 
without purchasing a ticket. 

Madison is on the main line between Jackson- 
ville and Pensacola, and would, therefore, afford 
a better opportunity to catch a west-bound train 
than if I went to Montgomery. 

In due time I was confronted by the conductor. 

"How much to Madison?" I asked, feeling in 
my pockets. 

"Eighty-five cents," said the conductor. 

"I haven't but 60 cents, conductor; carry me as 
far as you can for that, and I'll walk the rest of 
the distance." 



to Southern California. 57 

A well-dressed young man looked up. 

^^If you'll pardon me, I'll loan you 50 cents," 
said lie. 

^^If you'll provide me with an address to which 
I can return the amount, I'll accept with thanks," 
I replied. 

Taking my book he wrote down, J. M. Turner, 
Jr., Gainesville, Fla. "I'm cigar salesman for a 
Gainesville house," he said. 

About this time another passenger spoke out. 

"I'll loan 3^ou twenty-five cents myself," said 
he, "if you need it." 

Without loss of time I handed over my book, 
and he wrote down R. T. Davis, Hopewell, Fla., 
and handed me twenty -five cents. (As yet I have 
been unable to locate one of these gentlemen since 
returning home.) 

Madison is the Southern terminal of the road, 
and at this point I left the train in company with 
the conductor, who invited me to lunch. 

The freight bound for Tallahassee pulled into 
Madison at 4 p. m. 

I had no trouble in enlisting the sympathy of 
the conductor, a very genial sort of fellow, who 
told me to go back to the caboose and keep out of 
sight until we reached Tallahassee. 

We reached the capital city sometime after 
dark. 

Here are a few points about Tallahassee which 
are in great contrast to Jacksonville. 



58 From North Carolina 

There are no paved streets in Tallahassee; if 
so, I didn't see them. They are all ill-lighted — 
one greasy street lamp post about every six 
blocks. 

Little business. In fact, one store out of every 
three was vacant — those that were open were not 
selling anything. All the stores are on one big 
Main street. 

A street car line was started, but the town 
couldn't support it, and it went to smash. 

The leaves and other rubbish had collected 
upon the sidewalks in great drifts. 

The fine dust floating in the air came near giv- 
ing me the asthma, and with a feeling of relief I 
wended my way back to the railroad yards. 

To keep warm that night I helped the darkey 
fire the engine at the ice factory, which is located 
near the depot, until 10 p. m., when I boarded a 
freight train bound for Grand River Junction, 
ninety-nine miles away, at which place I landed 
about 3 a. m. 

The next division was a stretch of a hundred 
miles or more from the Junction to Pensacola. 
This was the L. (& N. road. 

I have since learned that it is about the hardest 
road in the United States to beat. No long 
freights pass over the road — most of the trains 
are ^^mixed," that is to say, a few box-cars and a 
few passenger cars. 

On this night the train for Pensacola had 



to Southern California, 59 

already made up. It consisted of two or three 
box-cars and the same number of passenger 
coaches. 

The conductor was in the depot working on 
some freight bills, when I approached him, re- 
questing permission to ride on the "blind bag- 
gage" to Pensacola. 

"The same old story," said he, looking up. 
"Sorry, young man, but we can't carry you on 
this road." 

I next went to the engineer, and there met with 
the same refusal. 

Then to the express car I hurried, for the train 
would soon start; but again, I was met with a 
rebuff. 

There were no stores in sight, and few houses. 
Surely Grand River Junction would be a most 
dismal place to get left in, especially in my con- 
dition — only fifty cents, and that borrowed 
money. 

In desperation I ran to the front part of the 
engine. 

In the intense darkness, both fireman and engi- 
neer failed to observe a silent form spring upon 
the cow-catcher. 

The wheels began to revolve, and barring all 
accidents, I was due to reach Pensacola in time 
for dinner. 

Being thinly dressed and facing the damp 
night winds at a fifty-mile an hour rate is cer- 
tainly not an enviable position. 



60 From North Carolina 

In a short time my body was so benumbed with 
cold I could scarcely move. Another thing, it 
would soon break day, and unless I could hide 
myself better, a discovery would follow and I 
would be put off. 

There's an old saying, which I afterwards 
learned : 

"To hobo the roads successfully, one has to 
give up all thought of life or death." 

That continued hardship lessens a man's fears 
of death, I have certainly learned by personal ex- 
perience. 

With slow deliberation, I worked my way 
under the boiler of the engine, and among the 
machinery. At last I was stretched out full 
length under the boiler, with only one foot stick- 
ing out, which I must risk being seen. The boiler 
was rather warm, of course, and every moment I 
stayed under it it was becoming warmer. Perspi- 
ration started out in huge drops. In running 
from the extreme of cold I had met the extreme of 
heat. Only a few moments sufficed to thaw me 
out and then a warm, hot time began in earnest. 
My clothes, pressed almost against the boiler, 
would become so hot every few minutes I was 
forced to turn over upon my side and ride for a 
while ; only to revert to the original position and 
torture again. 

Things were getting unbearable. 

I had heard of hobos riding under the cow- 
catcher. 



to Southern California. 61 

Yes, I would risk it! The train came to a 
standstill. The delay would hardly be a long 
one, for it was only a cross-roads station. I 
would have to work with lightning-like rapidity. 
About midway the boiler was an opening in the 
machinery, barely large enough to admit the pas- 
sage of a man. Squeezing through this opening, 
I dropped upon the cross-ties under the engine. 
On all-fours I made my way along the track to 
the front axle of the engine, which I passed under. 
I had now reached the cow-catcher, but my 
trouble had been for naught. For some unex- 
plainable reason the space under the cow-catcher 
had been nailed full of cross-beams, thus effec- 
tually barring further progress. 

Now, fully realizing the danger of my position, 
a sudden fear assailed me, and I began tremb- 
ling from head to foot. 

It had required scarcely thirty seconds to make 
the discovery, and within the same minute I had 
turned and was again squeezing under the ter- 
rible looking axle. 

Clang! clang! sounded the engine bell. 

Considerably bruised about the hands and 
knees, I reached the opening just as the engine 
pushed off. 

Securing a firm grip upon a piece of machinery 
above the opening, and taking a step forward 
with the slowly moving engine, I drew myself up 
to safety. 



62 Ff^om North Carolina 

About 8 a. m. we reached Chiplej, Fla. 

Here the station agent saw me, and I was 
pulled down. I was greasy and black, and my 
clothes were torn, but no limbs were missing. 

The conductor, agent and others came hurry- 
ing to the engine to see the man who had dared 
hobo under the boiler. 

Chipley is a fine little town of about 1,200 in- 
habitants, and a more sociable lot of people Tve 
never met. 

It was soon mouthed about the streets how I 
reached the town, and for a time I was the cyno- 
sure of all eyes, though no one offered to arrest 
me. 

There are some five or six saw-mills around 
Chipley. About two miles from the town is a 
large saw-mill and brick kiln owned by J. D. Hall. 

A young merchant of the town informed me 
that Mr. Hall was badly in need of labor and was 
paying good prices. 

Fven to hobo the roads, a man needs money, 
and I decided to stake up a bit before continuing 
my way. 

Sometime before noon I arrived at the mill. 

Mr. Hall looked me over quite critically. 

"Did you ever do any hard labor?'' he asked. 

"Yes, sir," I untruthfully replied, for, to be 
candid, I had never done a day's hard work in 
my life. 



to Southern California. 63 

"Well, you don't look it," was the compliment. 
"However, I'll give you a trial at |1.50 per day. 

You can board with Mr for thirty cents 

a day." 

"That's unusually cheap for board," I said. 
"A man doing hard labor needs plenty to eat and 
I'm perfectly willing to pay at least |3.50 per 
week." 

Evidently he misconstrued my meaning. 

"My men furnish plenty to eat for any man," 
said he, but you won't get any pie or cake," he 
retorted," eyeing me with undisguised disap- 
proval. 

"O, that's all right! I can eat anything," I 
hastened to say. 

"Very well, Mr. Peele, you may come to work 
this afternoon. It's not far to your boarding 
place. Just keep the straight path through the 
woods there, and its the first house you get to." 

I'll not expose my landlord's name, but for the 
sake of convenience we'll call him Mr. Black. 

In due time I reached the Black household. 
The scene which met my gaze was altogether un- 
inviting and unappetizing. I can't describe the 
house. There was one living room, a kitchen, 
and a shed room. 

The day was warm and several Black children 
were in the yard playing as I reached the gate. 

Upon seeing a stranger approach there was a 



64 From North Carolina 

general stampede for the back yard, some of the 
smaller children taking refuge behind Mrs. Black, 
who at that moment appeared in the open door- 
way. 

If appearances count for anything, Mrs. Black 
had certainly not combed her hair within several 
weeks, and the grime on her face and clothes was 
a sickening sight to contemplate. 

^'Good morning, madam; my name is Peele; 
I'm to work at the saw-mill, and Mr. Hall says 
you'll furnish me board." 

^^All right, just make yourself at home," she 
invited bashfully, and the next moment she dis- 
appeared into the dark recess of the only living 
room. 

Strictly on time, Mr. Black arrived for the 
noonday meal, and forthwith we proceeded to 
the dining-room. 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Black began making apolo- 
gies, but, with a few jokes, I set them at ease, 
assuring them that I wouldn't be hard to please. 

To see the hard side of life would make a bet- 
ter man of me anyway, I reflected. 

There was no attempt to have clean dishes, for 
two sets or more of children had already eaten, 
and others were yet coming in. 

The meal consisted of rice, honey and bread. 
So far as I could see there was nothing else. I 
now saw how a man could be boarded for thirty 
cents a day. 



to Southern California. 65 

They'll have something more substantial for 
supper, I thought, beginning to crust the top of 
a black-looking, half-done biscuit. The biscuits 
were unusually large ones, weighing nearly two 
pounds each. 

A little rice and honey and the huge top of the 
biscuit formed my meal. 

There was no denying the fact, I was hungry 
and was enjoying my portion quite well, when 
Mr. Black took a sudden notion to either become 
funny, or spoil my appetite, I don't know which. 
He had been kicking up a great fuss drinking his 
coffee, when all at once the noise ceased. He had 
caught a fly in his cup. Holding up the fly by 
the hind leg high into the air, he smilingly an- 
nounced : 

^^I've caught a sucker !" 

To my astonishment Mrs. Black took it as a 
great joke, and began laughing heartily. 

Thoroughly disgusted I kept silent. 

It was not long before Mr. Black caught 
another fly. 

Holding up the unfortunate fly between his 
thumb and forefinger, and with true Florida slow- 
ness, he drawled : 

"Well, darlin', I've caught another sucker." 

I'll not dwell upon all the funny things that 
happened during my short stay with the Blacks. 

I slept in the little shed room, and every night 
went to bed at dark, for there was no way of ob- 
taining anything to read. 
5 



66 From North Carolina 

Rice and honey continued in evidence on the 
table throughout. 

Onl}^ twice was the menu changed. On these 
two occasions Mrs. Black's ten-year-old son varied 
the diet by visiting the lakes, which were near 
the house, and fairly teeming with fish. 

Wild honey and fresh fish are both good, but at 
the end of a hard week's work at the saw-mill, I 
was ready for other fields of adventure, and set- 
tling my board bill, bade Mr. and Mrs. Black 
good-bye. 

As a result of my week's labor I now had the 
sum of seven dollars. 

Mr. Hall seemed sorry at my leaving. 

^'You'd better be careful if you intend to beat 
to Pensacola," said he, ^^for I hear there are 
twenty-two white men working the county roads 
there for hoboing." 

^^Well, I can only wish for better luck, sir, and 
I must now bid you good-bye." 

It was late Saturday afternoon when I reached 
Chipley. 

Straightway I proceeded to the only restaurant 
in the little town, and my next half hour was in- 
deed a busy one. 

The bill was sixty cents, but I had no regrets. 

The passenger train bound for Pensacola was 
due in Chipley just before dark. 

Someone told me that I could catch the train 
at a long trestle about four miles from the town. 



to Southern California. 67 

I set out on foot at a rapid gait for the trestle and 
reached it slightly in advance of the train. 

Having but three or four coaches and running 
at full speed, the engineer was unable to check 
the train's flight before running almost midway 
of the bridge. 

Just in the nick of time I reached the brass 
handles, and swung upon the lower steps of the 
rear car, as the train once more resumed its 
journey. 

The top part of the rear door had been let 
down — I suppose for ventilation. 

Every moment, fearing discovery, my eyes were 
fastened in a steady stare upon the door. 

I had been crouching upon the steps scarcely 
five minutes ere a lady passenger peered out into 
the fast gathering darkness. 

For the space of a second the head was framed 
in the open doorway, when, with a quick jerk, it 
disappeared into the brilliantly lighted car. 

There was no doubt she had seen me and was 
very much frightened. 

''Hey ! what the are you doing there?" 

shouted the conductor a moment later. 

''Going to Pensacola, if you'll allow me, sir. 
I'll always appreciate it, Captain, if " 

"I'll wire to Caryville and allow you to be ar- 
rested if you don't either get down off this train 
or pay your fare," shouted the conductor. 

As will be remembered, I was still on the L. & 



68 From North Carolina 

N. Road, and remembering Mr. Hall's caution, de- 
cided to pay my fare. 

Ten minutes later I was riding on a first-class 
ticket to Pensacola. Out of the |5.00 bill I 
handed the conductor I received only twenty 
cents. He had taken out the full fare from Chip- 
ley, charging me for the four miles I had walked. 

At 10 p. m. the train pulled into the station at 
Pensacola. 

''Is there a night freight from here to Mobile?" 

The question was directed to a young man 
about my own age, who had just come out of a 
barber shop. 

''No, but there's a midnight freight to Floma- 
ton, Ala., which is about half way, I believe. Go- 
ing to hobo it?" 

"Yes, I may do so." 

"Then I'd advise you to be careful in this town, 
my friend. You're likely to get a job making 
"little rocks out of big ones." There are twenty- 
two of 'em at it now, and a night cop at the depot 
waiting to catch others. Now, the best thing you 
can do," he continued, "would be to walk from 
this town to Flomaton, and if you're going on to 
New Orleans, you'd better walk through all of 
Southern Mississippi to the State line of Louis- 
iana, for if you're caught 'hoboing' in Mississippi, 
you'll get eleven months and twenty-nine days in 
prison. Upon being released you're allowed one 
day to get out of the town, and upon failing to do 



to Southern California, 69 

so, you're again arrested and thrown into jail for 
a like term for vagrancy. 

Upon hearing this I admit that I was consider- 
ably frightened ; but it would never do to give up 
in this manner, for the trip was hardly begun yet, 
and if I had heeded all the advice of this nature 
I had received since leaving Wilmington, the 
probabilities are I would not yet have reached 
Jacksonville. 

^^Nothing ventured, nothing gained," and I de- 
cided to either leave Pensacola on the next train 
or get thrown into jail for the attempt. 

Accordingly I started for the depot at which I 
had recently been landed as a first-class passen- 
ger, and reached it just as the Flomaton freight 
was pulling out. 

There was no cop in sight, for which I was 
deeply thankful. 

The train was an extremely short one and was 
rapidly getting under headway when I arrived. 

A quick glance up and down the train sufficed 
to show that there were no empty or flat cars 
along. My ride must be either in the cold winds 
on top or between the cars. I chose the latter 
place. 

In this position a man has to stick close to the 
end of only one of the two cars he is riding be- 
tween, for there is always danger of the cars 
breaking loose and dashing him to instant death 
upon the tracks beneath. He can hold on to the 



70 From North Carolina 

break rod with his hands and the car bumper 
affords him a narrow standing room. 

It was six long, weary hours later — just sun- 
rise — when, more dead than alive, I stepped from 
the train in Flomaton, or rather I fell off the 
train in Flomaton. 

My limbs had become cramped and stiff from 
standing in one position during the night's long 
ride, and in trying to jump off the train in the 
suburbs of the town, I was throAvn violently to 
the ground, sustaining a badly bruised hand and 
several smaller hurts. 

A negro who lived near by furnished me with 
soap and water, though I was minus a handker- 
chief and was compelled to dry my face with old 
newspapers. 

Flomaton is a small town, not more than a 
mile from the Florida State line, and derives 
most of its importance from being a railroad 
center. 

I started down town in search of a restaurant, 
but had not proceeded far when I was overtaken 
by a man who inquired : 

"Have you heard the news?" 

"What news?'' I asked. 

"Why, a railroad man was shot and instantly 
killed near the depot this morning, just before 
light." 

"Who shot him?" I asked. 



to Southern California. 71 

"As yet they have no clew/' replied the man, 
looking at me keenly, but it is thought he was 
shot by a stranger." 

We were now near the depot. A passenger 
train was steamed up. 

"Where does that train go," I asked. 

"It leaves in a few minutes for Mobile,'' he re- 
plied, parting with me at a nearby street corner. 

No sooner was he out of sight than I started on 
a 2 :40 pace for the engine. 

All thoughts of breakfast fled. A man had 
been shot dead in the town, and as yet there was 
no clue as to the identity of the murderer. The 
citizens of the place would soon be up and astir 
on the streets, and I stood a fine chance of being 
arrested on suspicion. 

With a single bound I was in the engine cab, 
and the next moment I was pleading with the 
engineer to take me to Mobile. 

That my pleading was earnest need not be said, 
for I won the case. 

"Wait until we get a good start and then swing 
the 'blind baggage.' "I won't see you," he 
grinned, but its rather risky going into Mobile 
on a passenger train in broad open day, for there's 
generally two or three cops hanging 'round the 
depot, and the yard is full of detectives. 

The word "detective" as used here is what is 
termed in North Carolina a town constable. 

In making arrests of this kind the constable is 
not required by the State to show a warrant. 



72 From North Carolina 

Southern Alabama and Mississippi are full of 
these detectives ; and seldom it is that a man gets 
through without a scratch. 

Sometime between 11 and 12 o'clock that day 
we ran into the suburbs of Mobile. 

Darting from the closed doorway, in which I 
had been standing, to the car platform, I cau- 
tiously peeped out. 

Several men standing on the sidewalk near a 
large factory saw me, and motioned violently 
with their hands for me to jump off, but the train 
was running too fast for that, and with a feeling 
of indescribable fear, I quickly sprang back and 
jammed myself tightly against the closed door — 
careful even to turn my feet sideways, with my 
face pressed flat against the door. All hopes of 
safely alighting in the suburbs was given out. 
The houses were fast getting thicker and stores 
began to flash by. 

Presently, to my surprise, the train turned into 
one of the principal business streets of Mobile. 
Large mercantile houses towered above me on 
every side. 

The train ran several blocks down this street 
before stopping at the depot. 

A man stepped in front of me to uncouple the 
engine. 

Not daring to move, I whispered : 

''Which side is the depot on?" 

''Get off on your right, quick!'' he whispered, 
without glancing up. 



to Southern California. 73 

In an instant I was upon the ground and walk- 
ing towards the boat wharves, but a few blocks 
distant. 

Only by prompt action in getting off the train, 
and knowing which side to alight on, had I been 
able to escape the wide-awake officials at Mobile. 

I felt like laughing as I reached the wharves 
and noted that no one had pursued me. 

Evidently, I was getting to be an expert ^'hobo'^ 
— but my joy was of short duration, for now I 
was as anxious to reach New Orleans as I had 
been to reach Mobile — and what if I was thrown 
in jail for a long term in Southern Mississippi? 
Well, my people should never hear of it, I re- 
solved. 

Going on a small vessel I asked for soap and 
water. 

I was given a big cake of dirty looking soap, 
half as large as my head, and told to draw my 
own water. Seizing a water bucket to which a 
long rope was attached, I cast overboard and 
soon drew into view a big bucketful of slimy 
looking water, that at home my own dog would 
have sniffed at contemptuously. But a chap 
buffeting against the world, as I was now doing, 
soon learns not to be too choice. After awhile 
he forgets the luxuries that were once his, and in 
most respects life assumes a different aspect. 

Having washed up, I thanked the boatman and 
left the wharves. 



74 From North Carolina 

A good dinner made me feel better, and I de- 
cided to stay in town over night and rest up. 

I noticed but few automobiles in Mobile. 

After dinner I found a nice room and paid for 
a night's lodging in advance. 

About one o'clock in the afternoon I retired to 
sleep, determined to get as much rest as possible 
for my money before next morning. 

I slept probably tAvo hours, and then awoke 
with an uncomfortable feeling. I had been dream- 
ing of beating trains and of several narrow es- 
capes from death. 

A cop chasing me dangerously close had awak- 
ened me. 

The bed seemed moving and the whole room 
whirling around. As soon as my eyes became 
accustomed to objects in the room and I saw that 
I was really safe from harm, I again tried to go 
to sleep, but it was no use, for the bed now 
seemed literally flying through space, and though 
lying in the middle, it seemed all I could do to 
maintain my position. 

In disgust I arose and dressed. 

The train for New Orleans would leave at 4 :30, 
and I yet had over an hour to reach the depot. 

The man who uncoupled the engine of the 
Flomaton passenger that morning showed up just 
before train time. 

I told him I intended trying to beat the train to 
New Orleans. 



to Southern California. 75 

He promised he would fix it up with the engi- 
neer for me, but that I must look out myself for 
the conductor, as he didn't know him. 

"You'd better look out going through Missis- 
sippi, though," he said. ^'The train makes but 
three regular stops — Scranton, Biloxi and Gulf 
Port. If you are not sharp you'll get run in at 
one of those places." 

"Don't turn your head ! he suddenly whispered, 
"there's a detective under the depot looking at 
you now. We'd better not be seen talking to- 
gether." 

"Good-bye, young fellow, and I hope you may 
get through safe." 

The 4 :30 passenger arrived in Mobile on time, 
and a few moments later pulled out bound on its 
long journey to New Orleans. 

Hidden between two box-cars farther up the 
road, I waited for the engine to pass. 

The train was going at a rapid clip when I 
sprang out and made a headlong dash for the 
^'blind baggage," which I caught safely. 

Either the conductor had not seen me or was 
waiting for me to get picked up down the road. 

The train's speed was increasing every mo- 
ment, and Mobile was soon left miles behind. 

SundaA^ evening just before dark we pulled into 
Scranton, Miss. 

A great throng of people, including a good 
many beautiful young girls, had turned out to 



76 From North Carolina 

see the train. Their voices told me which side 
the depot was on. 

No sooner had the train stopped than I was 
upon the ground on the opposite side. 

I heard someone running towards the engine 
on the other side of the track. 

Trembling with fear for a moment I stood still. 

Another train filled to overflowing with passen- 
gers and headed towards Mobile had side-tracked 
for the New Orleans train. Jumping aboard the 
Mobile train, I mingled with the passengers. 

In a few moments, by looking through the car 
window, I noted with satisfaction that the New 
Orleans train was again on the move. 

One, two, three car lengths passed. 

With a single bound I sprang from the Mobile 
train, and a never-to-be-forgotten race for the 
^'blind baggage'' ensued. 

I soon passed from between the two trains, and 
now it was an open track race. 

As I passed the last coach of the Mobile train 
two forms loomed up on the side-track. 

^There he is ! He is the fellow !" cried one of 
the men. 

^'Yes, I'm the fellow," and stiffening my fore- 
arm, I delivered the sheriff, who stepped out to 

intercept me, a right swing under the chin 

crack ! 

The man received the full benefit of the motion 
of my body and went to the ground like a ten pin. 



to Southern California. 77 

It was a blow I had been taught at the Ardell 
Club while taking boxing lessons under Cy Flinn, 
a pugilist of considerable local fame in Buffalo. 

The engineer, sitting backwards in his cab, had 
witnessed the trouble, and as I vanished between 
two mail cars, the whole train jumped with a sud- 
den burst of speed. 

Evidently the kindhearted engineer was keep- 
ing up his part of the contract to take me through. 

It was dark when we reached Biloxi and Gulf 
Port, and by careful dodging I escaped the men 
who had searched the train at these points. 

The biggest part of the journey was now over 
the Gulf waters, and at an extremely slow rate 
of speed. 

At nine o'clock that night we crossed the Mis- 
sissippi, and the train came to a standstill at the 
depot on Canal street, New Orleans. 

I stayed in New Orleans one week. 

I arrived in the Crescent City with less than a 
dollar, and on the second night my money was 
gone and I was forced to sleep upon one of the 
wharves near the foot of Canal street. 

The next day I got a job unloading bananas off 
the boats at the I. C. wharves at two bits an hour. 

I found a room now at No. 1006 Iberville street, 
in a lodging house run by a Mrs. M. P. Westmore- 
land. Mrs. Westmoreland is a well-to-do widow, 
and also a very kind-hearted lady. She refused 
to accept anything for my lodging, saying she 



78 From North Carolina 

would be amply repaid if I would write her a 
letter when I got to Tucson. 

^^I shall always think you were accidentally 
killed if I never hear from you/' she said. 

I was always a poor writer, and have never sent 
her the letter, but if this little pamphlet is ever 
published, I shall take pleasure in sending her a 
copy, together with my best greetings. 

Only three banana steamers arrived while I 
was in the city. The fruit is loaded in the West 
Indies. I made |4.50 at this job. 

New Orleans is a fascinating town and the 
easiest place in the world to spend your money. 

A few days later, when I made preparations to 
leave for Texas, my |4.50 had dwindled to |0. 

There are more beautiful yellow girls to be seen 
on the streets of New Orleans in one day than one 
would see in most cities in a lifetime. They are 
called Creoles, or something of the kind, and can 
be seen walking around, all over the town, in 
every direction. Even down at the wharves every 
afternoon about boat time you'll see them lined 
up in great numbers. 

There was a lot of talk about the ^^Hoodlums" 
while I was in New Orleans. All the city news- 
papers, as well as some of the State papers, had 
long articles concerning the doings of this re- 
markable organization. Nearly every section of 
the city had been visited at one time or another 
and terrorized by them. 



to Southern California. 79 

I recalled the words of the engine coupler at 
Mobile. When I parted with him, his last re- 
mark was, "Look out for the Hoodlums." 

They are a set of 3'Oung city bloods and toughs 
of the worst stripe, banded together to rob, mur- 
der and steal. 

I met a well dressed young man in a large park 
there one night, who told me confidentially that 
he was a "Hoodlum" ; said he thought he and I 
would make good friends, and that he might be 
able to get me in as a member, but I declined the 
invitation with thanks. 

Yes, New Orleans is a great place in many 
ways. On the day I left, while standing on the 
street corner taking a last view of the place, a 
man bearing a large basket, carefully covered 
over, approached me and said : 

"Crawfish? Crawfish?" 

^'What about crawfish?" I asked. 

He looked at me in surprise. 

"Good to eat," he said ; "only five cents a pint." 

I told him they were used down home for fish 
bait, whereupon he got mad and went strutting 
up the street. 

I had caught a glimpse of the crawfish, though. 
There was no mistaking it; they were real craw- 
fish all right, and were what we term "little 
teenie" ones. The man said they had been cooked 
very carefully and were well done. Of course the 
head is thrown away, and it is only the tail part 
that is eaten. 



80 From North Carolina 



CHAPTER Y. 



A Hungry Ride of 808 Miles — ''Hello^ Hello in 
the Pipe There T — To Work Again — Nahhed hy 
a Cop. 

Late one afternoon I crossed the river on a 
freight ferry to the Texas Pacific railroad yards. 

That night I beat a freight train 208 miles to 
Boyce, La., reaching Boyce about 11 o'clock next 
morning. Another freight on the same day bore 
me to Marshall, Tex., 100 miles from Boyce. 

All day long I had had nothing to eat and it 
was 9 o'clock at night when we reached the city 
of Marshall. 

I had just one hour to get something to eat and 
get back to the depot, for the Dallas freight 
would pull out at 10 p. m. 

I went four or five blocks up a side street and 
knocked on a cottage door. The occupants had 
retired, but a second knock brought the madam to 
the door. 

I told the lady a sad story of how hungry I 
was, and ended up by asking for a pan of water 
to wash my face and hands, if it would not cause 
her too much trouble. 

She called to her husband, who came hurrying 
into the hall in his stocking feet. 

After I had told my story again a pan of water 
was brought into the hall and I was invited in. 



to Southern Calif oniia. 81 

They told me, while I was washing, they had 
nothing in the house to eat. 

I took out my note book. 

'^If you will loan me five cents," I said, "I'll 
take your address and return it. I'm very hun- 
gry, sir, and will appreciate it more than I can 
tell you." 

The man loaned me a dime, but would furnish 
no address ; and hastily thanking them, I hurried 
out the gate and started on a run for the railroad 
restaurant. 

A big, fat fellow runs the railroad restaurant 
at Marshall — a Dutchman or Irishman, I couldn't 
decide which, but he is as good natured as he is 
large. 

There was nobody in but the proprietor when 
I entered. 

"My friend, I am very hungry, and am broke — 
I have just ten cents, and am thousands of miles 
from home. Give me ten cents worth of supper, 
and please understand I want quantity and not 
quality." 

The meal that good-hearted fellow spread out 
on the table caused me to blush with shame, but 
I was hungry, and shame was set in the back- 
ground. 

It was chicken fricassee, sausage, beef, etc., and 
more of each than I could eat, hungry as I was. 

In a short time I left the restaurant. 

It was already time for the Dallas freight to 



82 From North Carolina 

leave, and I went hurrying down the track 
through the darkness to where the train was 
making up. 

I came upon two brakemen struggling in a vain 
endeavor to close a tight car door. (From this 
point throughout the West the brakemen are 
Avhite men.) The men were cursing and swear- 
ing at a great rate at their failure to close the 
door, but with the united effort of all three of us, 
it was finally pushed to and sealed. 

''I want to go to Dallas. You fellows care if 
I get on?" 

''We'll take you for |1.00" said the brakemen. 

I told them I didn't have the money. ( In this 
part of the country a brakeman makes almost as 
much carrying hobos as his wages amount to. A 
dollar is the usual charge for a division, which is 
anywhere from one hundred to two hundred 
miles, but when a hobo attempts to go without 
paying, he is generally treated pretty rough, if 
not thrown from the train and killed. ) 

''Four bits, and we'll carry you," said one of 
the brakemen. 

"I give you my honest word, I haven't got a 
cent, fellows." 

"Then don't get on this train. Do, you'll get 
kicked off," said the men. 

I left them and went hurrying through the 
darkness down the long line of cars. 

I found a car half full of cross-ties. 



to Southern California. 83 

The door had not been sealed, and crawling 
into the back end of the car I pulled off my 
coat — for the night was very hot — and folding it 
up into a nice pillow, I lay down to sleep. 

I never knew when the train started, but about 
forty miles down the road the brakemen found 
me, and shining their lanterns within a foot of 
my face, woke me up. 

Instead of ''kicking" me off, as threatened, they 
talked fairly sociable. 

"We'll not put you down in this storm, here on 
the prairie, for there's nothing here but a side- 
track, but the next stop is Longview, and you'll 
have to get off," they said. 

I went to the door and looked out. The rain 
was coming down in great sheets, and the heavens 
were lit up by an almost constant glare of light- 
ning. It was the worst storm I had ever seen. 

As far as I could see in every direction was a 
vast expanse of rolling prairie. It was the first 
time I had ever seen the prairies, and I felt deeply 
impressed. I noted that the air seemed purer 
and fresher too than any I had ever breathed 
before. 

At Longview the men came to the car to put me 
down, but I had already gotten down, and not 
finding me, they left. 

The train started, and rising up from the 
ground, where I had been hiding, I crawled into 
the car of ties again. 



84 From North Carolina 

I was run out of the same car three times that 
night. The last time I was put off ; the brakemen 
told me if I got back on the train again they 
would shoot me. 

I had reached the town of Big Sandy, Tex., and 
decided I had better wait for another train. 

It lacked but a few minutes of 12 o'clock as I 
made my way over to a small drug store, not far 
from the depot. 

A sharp featured man was talking to the drug- 
gist as I entered. 

He slightly bowed at me, and presently said : 

^'You're a stranger here, are you not?'' 

Something told me he was a detective. 

I told him yes, I was a stranger and trying to 
reach Dallas, and a good many other things I 
told him I don't remember. 

He finally admitted he had just searched the 
train I had left, but as he hadn't caught me in 
the act, he would let me go, comforting me with 
the assurance that I would get caught anyway at 
Mineola. 

^^Why, they are so bad after hobos in Mineola 
they break open the car door seals, searching for 
them," he said. 

Two hours later I was standing on the ^^blind 
baggage" platform, behind the coal tender of a 
passenger train bound for Dallas. 

It was raining pretty hard when we got to 
Mineola, and no one came to bother me. 

Shortly after daylight we steamed into Dallas. 



to Southern California. 85 

I jumped from the train as it began to slow up 
at the State Fair Grounds in the edge of the city. 

I had at last gotten to Dallas, but I was cer- 
tainly in a bad fix — penniless, wet to the skin, 
cold, sick, and deathly sleepy. 

I went over to a small grocery store, near the 
fair grounds, run by a Mrs. Sprague. 

A beautiful young girl about fifteen years old, 
who was clerking in the store, brought me a pan 
of water to wash. 

^'Didn't you beat that passenger train in town?" 
asked the elderly lady, as I began washing. 

^'I did, madam, and I am sorry that circum- 
stances necessitated my doing so,'' I replied. 

"1 thought I saw you jump off," she said, whis- 
pering something to the young girl, who vanished 
into the back part of the store. 

It took nearly twenty minutes of hard scrub- 
bing for me to get the cinders and grease out of 
my hair and eyes. 

As I finished, the young lady re-entered the 
store and approached me : 

^'Come and have some breakfast," she said in a 
low voice, ^^its all ready and the coffee's hot." 

For a moment I felt worse than at any time 
since leaving home. I tried to refuse, but they 
allowed me no chance. 

^^I've got a dear son myself wandering some- 
where over this big world," said the good woman, 
putting a handkerchief to her eyes. 



86 



From North Carolina 




to Southern California, 87 

There was no help for it, and I humbly assented 
to take a cup of coffee. The hot, steaming coffee 
was of the best quality, and four times did my 
beautiful young waitress see that my cup was 
filled. 

Sometimes I think that coffee saved my life. 

Upon leaving Mrs. Sprague's I walked down 
town from the fair grounds, a distance of about 
three miles. 

The first man I asked for a job was F. P. Hol- 
land, the rich editor of the Texas Farm and 
Ranch, 

He said he had no work at present. 

Before leaving, I told him I was sick, cold and 
hungry, and had nowhere to sleep that night. 

I asked him to loan me |1.00 until I could get 
on my feet and pay him back. He loaned me 25 
cents, which I was glad to be able to pay back in 
a few days. 

Leaving the rich man and his luxury, I took a 
long tramp back to the fair grounds, where some- 
one said I could get a job. 

Secretary Sidney Smith was in charge of the 
work, and after hearing my story, kindly fur- 
nished me a place to sleep and eat, and gave me a 
job helping to repair the fair grounds. 

^^I don't really need any more labor,'' he said, 
'^but I believe in helping a man when he's down." 

He secured me a place to board at No. 270 
South Carroll Ave., with one of the foremen, Mr. 
R. A. Downey. 



88 From North Carolina 

That night I was surprised to learn that the 
young lady, who had waited on me so nicely at 
the store, was Mr. Downey's daughter. 

While at Mrs. Downey's I was taken down 
with a high fever, and for the first time since 
leaving home I had a hard spell of asthma. This 
only increased my desire to get to Arizona or 
New Mexico. 

Good cotton choppers around Dallas are paid 
|1.75 per day and board. 

About two weeks later I left the city. 

After paying for my board and buying a few 
articles of clothing, I had but |3.00. 

I left Dallas one Sunday evening on a street 
car for Fort Worth. The distance is about 22 
miles. 

That same afternoon an employment bureau 
run by Glenn & Co. shipped me for $1.00 from 
Fort Worth over the Fort Worth and Denver 
Road to Iowa Park, Tex., to do railroad construc- 
tion work. 

I was trying to reach El Paso, which is only 
600 miles over the Texas Pacific Road from Fort 
W^orth, but while in Fort Worth I was told it was 
almost as much as a man's life was worth to try 
to beat the T. P. road between these points, on 
account of the extreme cruelty of the brakemen, 
so I decided to go around the longest way, which 
would take me through New Mexico. 

On the way to Iowa Park, I fell in with a young 
man from Chicago, who had also shipped out. 



to Southern California. 89 

That night we deserted the train at a small 
station just before reaching Iowa Park. 

We were now nearly two hundred miles from 
Fort Worth and had ridden the entire distance 
for 11.00. 

I have forgotten the young man's name, but 
will call him White. He said he had left his 
home in Chicago to settle somewhere in the West 
and make his fortune. 

We decided to travel along together awhile. 

About daylight we caught a freight train. 

A long smokestack of some kind was loaded on 
a flat-car. 

Into the smutty stack we crawled, he entering 
one end and I the other, and crawled until our 
heads met in the middle. 

When we came together White was trembling 
all over. 

I've done everything since leaving home but 
hobo," said he. 

He reminded me of my own experience through 
South Carolina and Georgia. 

We made a lot of noise getting into the stack, 
and had not more than become comfortable when 
a brakeman's lantern was thrust into one end. 

'^Hello ! Hello ! in the pipe there," he shouted. 

We crawled out and asked him to let us go, 
but it was "no go." 

^^Give me a dollar apiece, or off you go at the 
next stop," said the brakeman, and he kept his 



90 From North Carolina 

word. We were put down at a little town sixteen 
miles from Vernon, Texas. 

We immediately set out to walk to Vernon, and 
had proceeded along the track about ten miles 
when a large farm wagon containing seven or 
eight farmers overtook us. 

They were going to Vernon and offered us a 
ride. 

At this time of the year the farmers are walk- 
ing up and down the streets of Vernon offering 
as high as |2.00 per day and board for men to 
work in the harvest fields. In fact, at no time 
of the year a farm laborer in this part of Texas 
is not paid less than |30.00 per month and board. 

I had never heard of farm hands getting such 
high wages, and suggested to White that we work 
in Vernon long enough to pay our way to Arizona 
or New Mexico, but like all young fellows who 
stay in the West awhile, he had caught the fever 
of roving and rambling from one green pasture 
to another — content no where — and put up a 
strong kick. 

He wanted to work in Vernon but a few days 
only. 

^'You're from the East, and you know nothing 
about good wages,'' he said. '^Why this is noth- 
ing to what we can make in Roswell, New Mexico, 
gathering apples." 

I had heard of the wonderful apple orchards 
around Roswell, and then, too, the climate would 



to Southern California, 91 

be better for me. I decided White was right, and 
that we would not stay long in Vernon. 

Late that afternoon a ranchman took us out in 
his buggy to a ranch about five miles from town. 

He had offered us |2.00 per day and board to 
shock wheat. 

Neither of us had ever shocked any wheat, but 
he said we could soon learn. 

Judging from my companion's conversation 
since I had met him, I had a suspicion he was a 
better pool player than he Avas wheat shocker, 
but the wealthy ranch owners of Texas at this 
season of the year, when their thousands of acres 
of land are lying in unshocked wheat, are glad 
enough to get a man, even if he is a slow worker 
and from the city. 

Some time after dark we came upon a small, 
one-room hut. Near the hut was a large, covered 
wagon. 

^'Here's where you sleep," said the ranchman. 
Just go right in and make your bed out of wheat." 

Everything was very still in the hut, consider- 
ing the fact that the one room contained some ten 
or a dozen men; but the men who had labored 
long and hard under the hot Texas sun that day 
were now scattered here and there about the hut 
floor, wrapped in a deep, sweet sleep. (Each of 
these men was from a different city or State, as I 
afterwards learned.) 

There was plenty of wheat strewn about the 



92 From North Carolina 

floor for us to lie upon, and soon two other weary, 
footsore travelers, lulled by the soft breeze blow- 
ing in the window, had fallen easy victims to the 
soothing caresses of Morpheus. 

It was about 4 a. m. that we were roused out of 
bed by a man announcing that breakfast was 
ready. 

For once I didn't care to eat. 

'^Come and get it, or I'll throw it out — Come 
and get it or I'll throw it out," yelled a loud voice 
from the vicinity of the wagon. 

"What's he going to throw out?" I asked the 
fellow who had disturbed my sleep. 

"It's the cook calling the men to breakfast," 
said he, "and you'd better hurry if you want any." 

"Where is a place to wash?" I asked. 

"Over there at the end of the wagon," said the 
man. 

I reached the spot and found some seven or 
eight men washing from one small tin vessel 
about half full of soapy water. 

"Water is a scarce article on the prairies and 
but little of the precious fluid is used for washing 
purposes. 

I washed the corners of my eyes, but there was 
no towel, comb nor brush to be had, and I made 
my way to the breakfast table. 

The table was one long plank, supported at 
either end by a barrel. 

The" plates, saucers and knives were all made 
of tin. 



to Southern California. 93 

The grub was well cooked and of good variety. 
The table was soon cleared and it was now to the 
wheat fields. 

On the third day at noon both White and my- 
self had gotten enough of the harvest fields and, 
receiving our pay, set out on foot for Vernon. 

That night we caught a passenger train and 
beat it one hundred miles to Childress, Tex., 
where we were put off. 

But not to stay long. An emigrant, who was 
moving his household effects to the Indian Terri- 
tory, allowed us to get in the car where his fur- 
niture was and carried us over two hundred miles 
to Dalhart, Tex., landing there late the next day. 

I parted with White at Dalhart. He had 
changed his mind about going to Roswell, and 
now wanted to go to Denver, Colo. 

Two hours after he had caught the Denver 
train I was safely hid in a coke car on an El Paso 
freight train. 

I had no trouble in catching the train at Dal- 
hart, for just as it pulled out a rough fight took 
place on the depot platform, both parties using 
firearms, which served momentarily to take atten- 
tion from me. It's doubtful though whether I'd 
have been bothered in Dalhart anyway, for it is 
one of those rough little Western towns 'way up 
in the Texas Panhandle, in which "everything 
goes." 



94 From North Carolina 

And, say, that was a funny fight, too. A big, 
rough-looking fellow, presumably a miner, had 
been cutting up too much fuss on the depot plat- 
form. The agent came out and asked him to be 
quiet, but instead of quieting him, he made mat- 
ters worse. The big fellow began cursing every- 
body on the platform. A cop was called and in 
a moment there was a mix up. The cop pecked 
the fellow all over the head with his pistol, but 
the miner gamely came back at him with his own 
pistol, neither of them uttering a word. In a 
few minutes blood was streaming from both. The 
big fellow finally gave in and put up his gun. 

"Come on now," said the cop, grabbing the man 
by the arm, and starting up the street. 

I was wondering where the jail was, when to 
my surprise the cop released the man before they 
had gone a block. 

The cop now came back to the depot, smiling. 

^'I got rid o' him," he said, but he was mis- 
taken, for the other fellow, by this time, had also 
reached the depot. 

Walking up close to the cop, he leered : 

*^Do you think I'm afraid of you?" and then 
another fight, even rougher than the other, began. 

It was at this juncture, unobserved, I slipped 
into the coke car. 

Within a short time after leaving Dalhart we 
crossed the State line into New Mexico. 



to Southern California. 95 



CHAPTER VI. 

Across the Line into Netv Mexico — Barren Sand 
Hills — Jack Rahhits — Prairie Dogs — A Glori- 
ous Sunset, etc. 

The train had now entered a country that is 
simply indescribable for its bleak barrenness. 

On every hand, as far as I could see, was noth- 
ing but barren sand hills, broken here and there 
by high mountain ridges. 

In some places we would go forty or fifty miles 
without seeing a sign of human habitation, then 
suddenly we would come upon a small collection 
of adobe huts, that is, huts built of sun-dried, 
mud bricks. 

These little houses have a flat roof, and some 
of them are no taller than a man's head. They 
are occupied by Mexicans and Indians. 

A big rain would destroy all these dwellings; 
but rain is almost as scarce in this desolate, sun- 
baked region as snow is in the Torrid Zone. 

When it does rain there and a man's clothes 
are wet, it takes but ten minutes for the air to 
dry him off again. 

From where I was sitting in the door of the 
coke car thousands upon thousands of jack rab- 
bits, cotton tails and prairie dogs could be seen 
dodging in and out among the rocks and cactus 
trees. 



96 From North Carolina 

Once, just before dark came on, a solitary cow- 
boy, wearing high boots and a big sombrero, 
mounted on a spirited young pony, dashed across 
the tracks ahead of the train and disappeared be- 
hind the low mountain ridges toward the sun- 
set — and such a grand, beautiful sunset that 
was ! — the sun slowly sinking behind the distant 
mountain peaks, and the whole heavens lit up 
with a perfect flood of golden beauty, Avas a scene, 
though I live to be a hundred years old, I shall 
never forget. 

Nowhere else in all the world, I believe, are the 
sunsets so gloriously beautiful as in Arizona or 
New Mexico. 

Lost in spell-bound admiration and silent re- 
flection, I sat in the car door until long after dark. 

The night air at home had always given me 
the asthma, but there was no asthma feeling 
about me now ; instead I felt that it would be an 
impossibility to wheeze. 

I inhaled great draughts of the dry, pure air, 
which seemed to penetrate to my very toes, and 
open every air cell in my body. 

Surely for those whose lungs are affected this 
is God's country, I thought. 

Then and there I registered a solemn vow that 
when my parents were no more, I should return 
to this country and pass the remainder of my 
days. 

All of this part of New Meixco is devoted to 



to Southern California, 97 

sheep raising. White men are in demand as 
sheep herders, and are usually paid |30.00 per 
month and board. 

That night I slept in the coke car, and at sun- 
up next morning we reached the first large town 
in all the 200-mile stretch from Dalhart — Santa 
Rosa — a town of 700 population. 

No one discovered the poor, thirsty hobo in the 
coke car. ( In this country three hours is a long 
time for a man to do without water. ) Inside of 
an hour the train had changed crews, another en- 
gine had been coupled on, and the long 175-mile 
ride across the dreary waste to Alamogordo (the 
next division point) was begun. 

During this long ride there was no change of 
scenery. I never went to the door without see- 
ing thousands of jack rabbits and an occasional 
coyote. Once in a while a large tarantula (spider) 
as large as a man's hand could be seen scamper- 
ing among the rocks for shelter. 

Extreme thirst is caused by the alkali dust 
which floats in the air. Before the day was over 
my lips had become a fiery red and cracked open, 
and my tongue had swollen nearly twice its nor- 
mal size. 

Many a poor hobo has been put down in this 
country by a heartless brakeman, and left to die 
on the desert, of thirst, but, as yet no one on the 
train had seen me. 

Once, as darkness was closing down, I heard a 
7 



98 From North Carolina 

brakeman coming, and quickly crawled into the 
back end of the car, where it was very dark. 

Slabs had been nailed across the open door 
within two feet of the top to prevent the coke 
from rolling out. 

The brakeman climbed upon these slabs, and 
taking up a piece of coke, threw it into the dark 
end of the car, where I was hiding, with consider- 
able force. 

Though he could not see me, his aim was true, 
and the coke struck me a glancing blow upon the 
cheek, cutting a long gash, and starting the blood. 

The pain was intense, and it was all I could do 
to keep from crying out, but the brakeman, un- 
conscious of my hurt, hurled a piece of coke into 
the other end of the car, and upon hearing no one, 
sprang from the car door, and soon his footsteps 
could be heard going to some other part of the 
train. 

Late that night we reached Alamogordo. 

While here I wrote home to my folks. 

Alamogordo is 4,000 feet above the sea level, 
and has one of the finest natural parks in the 
United States. 

The town is also noted for the luscious fruit 
raised by the Mexican ranchers nearby. 

My night's lodging was on a large pile of tele- 
graph poles piled near the railroad. 

No dew falls in that country and a good many 
of the people who live there would rather sleep 



to Southern California. 99 

on the ground during the summer months than 
on a good feather bed. A man can sleep on the 
ground there nine months in the year without 
taking a cold. 

I left Alamogordo the next day on a passenger 
train as a '^coal passenger," that is, I had to help 
the fireman shovel coal for my fare to El Paso. 

About half of this trip lay in the foothills of 
the mountains, and then we reached the moun- 
tains proper. 

Gradually the train rose foot by foot (the train 
was going very slowly now) until we had attained 
a height of over 5,000 feet above the level of the 
track. 

The journey was now through the clouds, and 
in some places the fog was so thick I could not see 
the cars that were following behind us, but in a 
few moments the spiral winding tracks would 
carry us on the other side of the mountains, where 
the sun was shining brightly, and I could see far 
down the beautiful valleys to some distant moun- 
tain peak over seventy-five miles away. 

It was the first time I had ever seen the moun- 
tains, and enraptured with their beauty, I forgot 
to throw coal down for the fireman. 

The engineer, noticing my abstraction, called: 

"Hey, come down here a minute.'' 

I crawled into the cab. 

"Where are you from?" he asked, good na- 

turedly. 

LOfC 



100 From North Carolina 

"I'm from North Carolina working my way to 
Tucson.'' 

"I thought you were from the East," he said. 
"How far do you think it is to that mountain 
peak over there?" 

"It looks to be about five miles," I answered. 

"That's where this clear air fools you. Why 
that peak is over forty miles away," he laughed. 

The rest of this trip I was treated exceptionally 
good. Both the fireman and engineer seemed to 
take a delight in pointing out to me things of 
interest. 

Presently a very high mountain caught my eye. 

"That's Mt. Shasta," said the fireman. It's 
over two miles high, and snow lies up there about 
nine months in the year. There's a railroad built 
up there now," he continued, "and its an ideal 
summer resort." 

About 8 or 9 p. m. we reached El Paso, Tex. 

At one time, years ago. El Paso was one of the 
roughest border towns in the West, but the mod- 
ern El Paso is altogether a different town. 

The population now numbers over 50,000, of 
which 15 or 20 per cent are Mexicans. 

Just across the Eio Grande River is the Mexi- 
can city, Ciudad Juarez. I spent nearly a day 
in this quaint looking city. In the center of the 
town is a large park. Seated on one of the beau- 
tiful rustic benches, placed close together along 
the shaded avenues of the park, you are quite 



to Southern California. 101 

free from the hot, scorching sun beating down 
overhead. Just above your head a large frame 
work, extending over the entire park, has been 
constructed, and upon it a thick growth of vines 
and beautiful flowers are entwined in endless 
profusion. 

Wherever I spent a small American coin, I 
was sure to receive nearly a handful of Mexican 
coins in change. 

A toll bridge spans the river and connects the 
two cities. 

An American collects the toll on the El Paso 
side and a Mexican on the Juarez side. It cost 
me two cents to cross each way. 

While in El Paso I heard a great deal of talk 
about the high wages paid laborers in Bisbee, 
Ariz., and as it was only a few miles out of my 
way going to Tucson, I decided to stop over there 
a few days. 

I shoveled coal on an El Paso and Southwest- 
ern freight train from El Paso to Douglas, a dis- 
tance of 200 miles. 

Douglas, Ariz., is a small place of about two 
thousand population, and is twenty-seven miles 
from Bisbee. 

When we reached Douglas the engineer and 
the fireman invited me to take dinner with them. 

The engineer offered to get me a place in the 
large railroad shops located there as apprentice 
boy at |2.50 per day, but I told him I would go 
on to Bisbee and try that town for a job first. 



102 From North Carolina 

In this country a man willing to work can 
always find dozens of jobs waiting for him. 
Nearly everything is white labor, and its very sel- 
dom you are offered less than |3.50 to |4.50 per 
day for eight hours work. 

The largest smelter plant in the world is lo- 
cated at Douglas. (Its the old plant removed 
from Bisbee.) 

The ore train (heaviest tonnage train in the 
world) hauls the crude ore from the mines in 
Bisbee to the Douglas smelters. 

I stayed over one night in Douglas, and the 
next morning at daylight caught the ore train 
with its long line of empty, iron-bound cars, 
bound for Bisbee. 

At Osborne Junction a miner got into the car 
I was in. He was also going to Bisbee. 

We left the cars on a side-track at Don Luis 
and started out to walk the remaining two miles 
to Bisbee, ^^The Greatest Mining Camp on Earth." 

My first impression of Bisbee was certainly not 
a very favorable one. 

The town is surrounded by high mountain 
ranges, making a sewerage system next to im- 
possible. The waste matter of Bisbee is hauled 
away in wooden boxes with teams. 

On account of this poor sewerage Bisbee suf- 
fers every summer with an epidemic of typhoid 
fever and smallpox. There is always the presence 
of a fearful stench upon the streets. All of the 
streets are very narrow, winding and short. 



to Southern California. 103 

Most of the dwelling houses are built one above 
the other up the mountain sides, and are reached 
by narrow, winding paths. 

Main street and Brewery Gulch are the two 
principal business streets. 

On either of these streets, day or night, one 
always finds a large crowd of miners and gam- 
blers — speaking of gambling, Bisbee is a typical 
Western town in this respect. There are over 
twenty public gambling halls there. Every sa- 
loon has its gambling hall, and in the rear a band 
of musicians. The doors are thrown wide open 
and the window shades are never drawn. 

Strolling into one of these brilliantly lighted 
dens of iniquity, you'll find every known gam- 
bling device under the sun. *^Dice throwing," 
^^21,'' "FsiYo;' ^^Roulette," ^Toker''— they are all 
there, and many others. 

The Indian, Chinaman, Mexican and American 
all play at the same table, and unless you are a 
good poker player you had better stay out of the 
game. 

In these games the ante is seldom less than 
11.00. 

The people in the Far West talk but little while 
the game is going on. There is no wrangling or 
misunderstanding. The cards are dealt quickly 
and deftly, and without a word the betting be- 
gins. Sometimes the pot swells to a thousand 
dollars or more, but even then the same quiet 
among the players prevails. 



104 From North Carolina 

The winner hardly smiles as he pockets his 
money, and the loser, if he goes broke, quietly 
gives up his seat and some other gentleman takes 
a hand. 

On the 10th and 12th of every month the mines 
around Bisbee pay out to the employees the sum 
of 170,000, so it is no wonder the gambling halls 
do a good business. 

There are no one cent pieces used in Bisbee, 
(not even in the post-office) ; nothing less than 
five cents. 

Bartenders in Bisbee receive |6.00 for an eight- 
hour shift serving drinks. 

There are no colored people in Bisbee. 

Board and room can be obtained for |30.00 per 
month and up. Clothing cost but little more 
than in the East. 



, to Southern California. 105 

CHAPTER VII. 

Get a Job in a Law Office — Dirty ^ Ragged Clothes 
Put Off — Sfnallpox Starts Me Off Again. 

It was an afternoon in July that I strolled into 
Bennett & Williams' law office on Brewery Gulch 
and asked for a job. 

A sign in the window read : 

^'Stenographer Wanted.'' 

It was in response to this ad I had entered. 

Right here a description of me might not be 
out of place. 

My spring suit had been ruined, and long since 
discarded for a suit of overalls that I had pur- 
chased in Dallas. Hard knocks had rent them in 
several places, and they were full of train grease. 
My shoes were worn completely out. For a hat 
I was wearing a wide-brimmed sombrero, pur- 
chased from a Mexican merchant at Alamogordo. 
I was strapped again, but that was a thing I was 
getting used to. 

Taken all in all, I'm sure I looked anything but 
a stenographer. 

Williams was typewriting when I entered and 
asked for the job. 

He refused to look at the various references I 
produced, saying they would have no weight with 
him, but glancing up at me, broke out into a 
broad smile. 



106 From North Carolina 

"So you are a shorthand writer, eh! Well, 
come back to-morrow morning and I'll give you a 
trial," was the promise, but it was quite easy to 
see he thought I was more of a tramp than a 
shorthand writer. 

Needless to say, though, I went back at the 
appointed time, and though I failed miserably in 
getting down the first letters he dictated, I was 
given the job. 

'^You'll soon get back in practice," he said, 
"and when you do, your salary will be |125.00 
per month." 

Three days later, as I began to improve, Wil- 
liams bought me $17.00 worth of clothes and a 
nice dress suit case. I was also given a |5.00 
meal ticket on the English Kitchen, and room 
rent was paid for me one month in advance at the 
LeGrand Hotel. Both my employers provided me 
with spending money from time to time, but the 
most of this money I saved. 

I had been in Bisbee nearly three weeks when 
several cases of smallpox and typhoid fever broke 
out. 

Two cases of smallpox broke out in the Le 
Grand Hotel. 

Several people deserted the town post-haste, 
and among the number was myself. 

'I resigned my position as stenographer, and 
bidding my kindhearted employers and other 
friends good-bye, I purchased a ticket to Tucson. 



to Southern California, 107 

It took nearly all my money to buy this ticket, 
but I didn't like the idea of hoboing to the town 
I was to make my future home in. 

I would, at least, have plenty of nice clothes 
when I got there, and if it came to a pinch about 
getting something to eat, I could sell some of my 
clothing. 

The first thing that met me when I stepped 
from the train in Tucson was a sandstorm, fill- 
ing my eyes, ears and nose full of fine dust and 
covering my clothes. (Sandstorms are of com- 
mon occurrence in this section.) 

It is a good deal warmer in Tucson at all times 
than at Bisbee, for Tucson is 2,000 feet lower. 
Tucson is on the Southern Pacific Railroad, and 
is but a few miles from the line of Old Mexico. 

Climatic conditions render it a most desirable 
place to live, but owing to Mexican labor compe- 
tition wages are not as good as at Bisbee. In 
Tucson the laboring man receives but |2.50 per 
day for eight hours. (This is just twice what is 
paid a laborer in North Carolina, South Carolina, 
or Virginia, however.) 

Board is cheap in Tucson, |5.00 per week and 
up. 

In the West Tucson is called the ^'lunger" town. 
The name comes from the large number of people 
who visit Tucson^ every winter from all parts of 
the United States for lung troubles. 



108 From North Carolina 

It is never cold enough in Tucson to wear an 
overcoat. 

There are more hotels and boarding-houses 
there than in any other city of its size on the 
globe. 

One hotel has a large sign up which reads : 

"Any Day that the Sun Fails to Shine Upon 
this Hotel, we will Give Our Guests Free Board.'' 

It's very seldom they have to give away any of 
their free board. 



to Southern California. 109 

CHAPTER VIII. 
^'For God's Sake, Give Me a Drop of Water/' 

I stayed in Tucson one night, and while knock- 
ing about the streets the next day I met a young 
man down at the depot who introduced himself 
as J. C. Allen, from some town in the East, which 
I have forgotten. 

Allen had landed in Tucson but a few days be- 
fore with about the same intentions I had, but 
for some reason had taken a violent dislike to the 
town, and now wanted to go to Los Angeles. 

I had caught the fever of traveling pretty hard 
myself now, and as Allen was a sociable sort of 
chap as well as a good talker, it didn't take him 
long to convince me that Tucson was a i)oor town 
for us to remain in. Then, as two young fellows 
will, we soon came to an understanding that we 
would stick by each other through thick and thin 
and work our way to Los Angeles, Cal. 

Like most fellows who stay in the West long, 
Allen was a great bull-con man (hot air man). 

He told me they were already picking oranges 
around Los Angeles, and paying pickers the high- 
est kind of prices. 

My own common sense ought to have told me 
that this wasn't true, and that Allen merely 
wanted me to go with him for company, but I 
hadn't been in the West long, and the poorest 
kind of bull-con dealer found in me an easy mark. 



110 From North Carolina 

I readily became as anxious to reach Los An- 
geles as Allen himself. 

^^How do you propose going?'^ I asked. 

^^A Mexican railroad foreman is going to ship 
me to Gila City, Ariz., to-night to do construction 
work, and I'll try to get him to ship you too," he 
promised. 

Late in the afternoon the Mexican in question 
showed up at the depot. 

Allen took him aside and had a long talk with 
him, during which time the Mexican glanced at 
me several times. Finally he got up and went 
into the depot. 

Allen now hurried over to me. 

'^ the luck," he exclaimed, "what are you 

wearing that white collar for?" The Mexican 
has gone after me a pass, but he says you look too 
sporty. 

"Hurry to your stopping place, quick ! and get 
off them togs and I'll try him again." 

I had put up within a block of the depot, and 
in a short time I had made the change and re- 
turned, bringing my dress suit case. 

Allen had already received his pass and was 
anxiously waiting for me. 

"Hide your dress suit case!" he whispered. 

I had barely done so when the Mexican came 
out of the depot. 

It was nearly dark now and there was a surg- 
ing crowd of ladies and men on the depot yards 
waiting to meet the incoming train. 



to Southern California. Ill 

Allen pushed his way through the crowd and 
once more directed the Mexican's attention to- 
wards me. 

The Mexican had no sooner glanced at me than 
he took out a pencil and wrote something on 
Allen's pass. A few moments later he left the 
depot and went hurrying up the street ; and Allen 
approached me with a smile. 

Upon his pass had been scrawled the two words, 
^^And friend." 

Shortly after, we were comfortably seated in a 
Southern Pacific passenger coach and bound far 
out upon the desert to Gila City, 180 miles away. 

Allen had but thirty-five cents, while I was 
again stranded without a penny. 

Just as day was breaking we were roused by 
the conductor and put down at Gila City. 

Its an unusual thing for a passenger to get on 
or off at Gila City. 

Some of the passengers straightened up in 
their seats and watched us with interest, as we 
slowly got our things together and left the car 
at this desolate spot, located almost in the very 
middle of the desert. 

We were yet 300 miles from Los Angeles, 
though Yuma, the next town, was but twenty 
miles away. 

Gila City contains one small store, about the 
size of a man's hand ; two small dwellings, and a 
miniature depot. The population numbers but 
four or five people. 



112 From North Carolina 

One thing is plentiful there, though — long- 
eared jack rabbits and cotton tails by the thou- 
sand. This section abounds with thousands of 
quail, too, and on warm days not a few rattle- 
snakes can be seen sunning in the desert. 

The shanty cars of the construction company 
stood on the side-track, and as there was nothing 
else to do we went over to them. 

The men were already up and the section fore- 
man's wife was preparing breakfast. 

We told the foreman that the Mexican had 
sent us down from Tucson, and were engaged by 
him at |1.50 per day and board. 

Presently we were invited into one of the cars 
for breakfast. 

The men seated around that table presented a 
picture seldom seen. Besides Allen and myself, 
there were three dark-skinned Mexicans, a half- 
breed Indian, the foreman, who was a Texan, and 
two ex-cowpunchers, besides an Irishman and a 
Chinaman. 

As for the breakfast itself, I have never eaten 
better grub anywhere, and the cooking was splen- 
did. Notwithstanding the motley crew around 
us, both Allen and myself made a hearty meal. 

The teams were soon hitched, and after proceed- 
ing down the track about a mile the day's work 
commenced. 

I was given a scraper team to drive, and Allen 
was put at pick and shovel work. 



to Southern California. 113 

As soon as the sun rose it quickly got hot, and 
by 8 o'clock it began to sting through our clothes. 
At 10 o'clock the heat was so intense that all 
hands quit work and went back to the shade of 
the shanty cars. 

Neither Allen nor myself had ever worked 
under such a hot sun before. Both of us came 
near fainting, and even when we reached the 
shanties, perspiration was still running from 
every pore. 

All work was suspended until 4 p.m. ( In this 
part of the world, owing to the intense heat, a 
day's work commences at 5 a. m. and lasts until 
10 a. m. In the middle of the day you take a six 
hours' rest. Commencing work again at 4 o'clock 
in the afternoon you work until 7 p. m., making 
an eight-hour day.) 

On the morning of the second day, Allen got 
pretty badly hurt. A big bowlder, becoming dis- 
lodged from above his head, rolled down the cliff 
where he was at work, and struck him a painful 
blow upon the back of his hand. Already over- 
heated from exertion in the hot sun, his injured 
hand threw him into a hard chill, and he was 
forced to quit work. 

Some of the Mexicans and others standing 
around began laughing as if they thought it a 
great joke. 

The foreman, instead of sympathizing with 
him, joined in the laugh. (The entire gang had 
put us down as tenderfeet.) 
8 



114 From North Carolina 

There was no use getting mad, for these tough- 
looking chaps were too many for us, and we did 
the next best thing. 

We gave up our job and walked back to the 
shanties. 

At 10 o'clock the men came in for dinner, when 
we informed the foreman that we had thrown up 
our job and that he could settle with us. 

"Settle nothing,'' said the big fellow, laughing. 
"You've not worked enough to pay your fare 
from Tucson yet. You can get your dinner here, 
and after that, meals are fifty cents apiece, if you 
dine in these cars." 

We walked over to the little store with the in- 
tention of investing Allen's thirty-five cents in 
groceries for our dinner, but there was nothing 
doing. 

The man's stock consisted mostly of pop and 
cigars, which articles he probably got from Los 
Angeles. 

"How much for pop?" I asked. 

"Fifteen cents a bottle," was the reply. 

A barrel of ginger snaps stood in one corner of 
the store. 

"How much a pound?" I asked, giving the 
cakes a wistful look. 

"Twenty-five cents a pound," said the grocer. 

We left the store without purchasing anything 
and made our way back to the cars, forced to ac- 
cept the ill-given hospitality of the section fore- 
man. 



to Southern California, 115 

That afternoon a lucky t^iought came to me.' 
We yet had plenty of clothing, and why not auc- 
tion it off? 

In my grip was a mouth harp that I had bought 
in Bisbee. 

Allen, who was a good harmonica player, struck 
up several lively airs^ and in a few minutes every 
man in the camp had gathered around us, includ- 
ing the foreman. 

Some were popping and slapping their hands 
in applause, and others were dancing jigs in time 
to the music. 

I gave Allen the signal to stop and, opening up 
both our grips, began auctioneering off small 
pieces of goods. 

Every thing put up was sold to advantage, 
though the smaller articles brought the best 
prices. 

The harmonica, which had cost me twenty-five 
cents, caused the liveliest bidding, and was 
finally knocked down to a cowboy for eighty cents. 

The foreman secured a nice comb and brush at 
a bargain, and was so well pleased ^Mth the music 
he invited us to take supper with him, and to play 
the harmonica again for him and his wife. 

x4bout nine o'clock that night a freight train 
stopped in Gila City, Avhich we boarded with our 
grips and easily beat to Yuma. 

Yuma has a population of 7,000 Indians, Mexi- 
cans and Americans, and like Bisbee, gambling 
forms a part of the revenue of the saloons. 



116 



From North Carolina 




to Southern California. 117 

Most of the houses in Yuma are built of wood 
or brick, though there are a good many adobe 
houses occupied by the poorer classes. 

Some claim Yuma is fifty feet above the sea 
level ; others say it is one hundred and fifty below 
the sea level. I don't know which of these state- 
ments is correct, but I do know that Yuma is 
by far the hottest town I was ever in. As early 
as half -past seven o'clock next morning the sun 
began to get uncomfortably hot, and by nine 
o'clock both Allen and myself were suffering from 
the heat. 

We spent the biggest part of the day in the 
shade of the large Reservoir building opposite the 
depot, and but a few feet from the Colorado River. 

That night a Mexican living in one of the adobe 
houses near the railroad yards supplied each of 
us with a large bottle of water for the long two 
hundred and eighty mile journey across the 
desert, but in dodging the brakemen while at- 
tempting to board a Los Angeles freight train, we 
became separated and it was the last I ever saw of 
my friend Allen. 

I managed to hide in a car loaded with scrap 
iron. 

Only once did I leave this car. We reached 
the first division point, Indio, Cal., about 3 o'clock 
in the morning. 

My bottle of water had long since run dry, and 
I was once more beginning to suffer the acute 
pangs of desert thirst. With as little noise as 



118 From North Carolina 

possible, I slipped from the car and into the 
pump house (which is about the only building 
of any kind that Indio contains). In fact, be- 
tween Yuma and Indio, for a distance of one hun- 
dred and fifty miles, there isn't a single town — 
nothing but desert and cactus trees. 

The man in the pump house filled my bottle 
from a h^^drant, and taking a big drink from a 
large tin cup, which I also filled from the hy- 
drant, I hurried through the darkness to the 
scrap iron car nearly a half mile down the track. 

I was about crawling in, when a low groan 
from under the car attracted my attention. 

Peering under the car, I was amazed to see a 
man on the rods. 

"For God's sake give me a drop of water," he 
begged piteously. 

I passed him the bottle of water, and invited 

The poor fellow eagerly took a long pull at it, 
him to drink half of it. 

passing it back scarcely half full, with a grateful 
'^Thank you." 

'^I could drink five bottles like that," he said, 
smacking his lips. 

The train now started, preventing further con- 
versation, and I quickly crawled back into the 
scrap iron car. 

The next day about 11 a. m. we pulled into the 
yards at Los Angeles. 

As soon as the train stopped in the yards I 
jumped out of the car and looked for the man on 
the rods, but he was gone. 



to Southern California. 119 

CHAPTER IX. 

Thrown Into Jail at Los Angeles. 

Upon seeing no one near, I lifted my grip from 
the car door and started down town in search of 
a lodging place. I found a nice place at No. 128 
E. First street, and the following day I got a 
job with the S. P. Eailroad Company, trucking 
freight at 20 cents per hour. 

Los Angeles is probably the greatest fruit mar- 
ket in the world. Oranges, grapes, peaches and 
apricots are among the principal fruits raised. 

During the orange season you can buy oranges 
for ten cents per dozen. A careful estimate 
places the number of oranges grow n in California 
every year at 900,000,000. All fruit is cheap. 
The finest kind of malaga grapes can be pur- 
chased on the streets of Los Angeles for 2^ cents 
per pound. You can live on fruit there over six 
months in the year. 

The winters there are no ways as cold as in 
North Carolina. 

The rainfall is scarcely ten inches a year, mak- 
ing it possible for the laboring man to work out 
doors every working day in the year. 

Laborers get |1.75 to |2.50 per day, and are 
always in demand. 

There are numerous restaurants in Los Angeles 
that set out a good, substantial meal for ten cents. 

San Pedro is the port of entry for Los Angeles. 



120 From North Carolina 

With the exception of Chicago, Los Angeles 
contains more employment bureaus than any 
other city in the United States. 

While standing in one of these labor bureaus a 
few days later, I learned that a certain hotel in 
San Pedro wanted a hotel clerk. I gave up my 
job trucking freight and took the street car for 
San Pedro. 

After having a short talk and showing my 
references to Jennings and White, proprietors of 
the Angelus Hotel, I was offered the place as 
clerk at |15.00 per month, board and room. 

I accepted the position. 

The little town of San Pedro bears the distinc- 
tion of being one of the nine corners of the 
Avorld. 

The Pacific Ocean is in full view from the front 
entrance of the Angelus Hotel. 

From this point it is only a two-hours run on 
the steamboat Cabrillo to the famous fishing 
grounds of Santa Catalina Island. 

If you are a good fisherman with hook and 
line, two hours in these waters will supply you 
with from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty 
pounds of fish. 

I had been clerking for Jennings & White 
about six weeks, when one day a man registered 
in the hotel from Searchlight, Nevada. 

The man praised up Searchlight in glowing 
terms. 



to Southern California. 121 

^^Everything in Searchlight is on a boom/' said 
he. ^^Wages are good, and it's the very place for 
a young man to make money." 

I was not making anything and had already 
grown tired of the little, sleepy town of San 
Pedro. 

The fever of travel was once more infused 
within me. 

I would go to Searchlight, and if I found it like 
the man had said, I promised myself I would 
settle down there and stop traveling about. 

To hold my position as clerk in the hotel I had 
been compelled to invest all of my small salary in 
clothing. 

When I resigned the job I had saved just |2.00. 

Mr. Jennings said I was doing a bad thing 
starting to Searchlight broke, and that he would 
give me a letter of reference to a Los Angeles 
street car Superintendent. I reproduce his let- 
ter in this book, though I never used it, for I was 
bent now upon going to Searchlight, and that 
afternoon took the car for Los Angeles. 

I knocked about the streets of Los Angeles 
three or four days trying to get up courage to be- 
gin beating trains again. 

During my six weeks of ease and contentment 
at the hotel I had grown almost as timid as when 
I first left home. 

Hardly before I knew it I was stranded in Los 
Angeles without a penny. 



122 From North Carolina 

My grip had been left in charge of Jennings & 
White, to be forwarded to me in case I reached 
Searchlight safely. 

I told some kind-hearted gentleman on the 
street of my trouble, and he kindly advised me to 
apply to the Los Angeles Chief of Police. 

''He'll get you a place to sleep to-night/' said 
the man, giving me the street and number of the 
Chiefs office. 

I lost sight of the fact that I was again dressed 
for hoboing the railroad, and that the chief might 
be unfavorably impressed with my appearance. 

I reached his office, which was located in a 
large stone building, just after nightfall. 

He listened to my story a moment or so, but 
instead of furnishing me with an address and the 
wherewithal to obtain a night's sleep at some 
lodging house, he tapped a bell on the desk. 

The next moment a blue coat entered the office. 

I now began to grow suspicious, but it was too 
late. 

"Take that man around for a night's lodging," 
said the Chief, and before I could gather my wits 
I was whisked from the Chief's presence into 
another department. 

"Search the prisoner," commanded the pom- 
pous looking individual presiding in this office. 

The cop searched my pockets and all my things 
were put in a large envelope, sealed and locked 
in a large iron safe. 

I now found my tongue and began using it 



to Southern California, 123 

pretty loud. The disgrace of spending a night in 
jail seemed more than I could bear. 

''Turn me loose, I don't want lodging. Please 
let me go," I cried. 

But it was no go. 

"Dry up there! came the command. ''If the 
Chief hears you, you may get thrown in a year 
for vagrancy." 

I could have 'phoned to Jennings & AVhite, and 
no doubt they could have gotten me out of the 
scrape, but I was ashamed for them to know of 
my predicament, and kept quiet. 

A large book was thrust at me. 

"Sign your name!" came the command. 

Anyone looking over the Los Angeles records 
for 1906 will find the name "Robert Smith," 
signed for a night's lodging. 

The city prison was in the back of the building, 
and a short time later I was locked behind the 
bars in an iron-bound cell containing twenty or 
more prisoners. 

Within ten minutes every man of them had 
asked me what I had been "run in" for. 

"You're liable to be kept in here several months 
for vagrancy," said the prisoners. 

I'll not dwell upon the horrors of that night. 
I didn't sleep a wink throughout the long night, 
and was wideawake next morning at six o'clock 
when the prison warden approached the cage 
door and shouted : 

"Robert Smith"— 



124 



From North Carolina 




'Robert Smith — is Robert Smith in there?" shouted the 
prison warden. 



to i^outliern California. 125 

"Robert Smith in there?" he called to some of 
the prisoners a moment later. 

I sprang up. I had forgotten that I had signed 
Robert Smith on the books. 

"I'm the man !" I cried, and five minutes later I 
was a free man, again breathing the pure, fresh 
air of the outside world. 

With rapid footsteps I hurried from this un- 
pleasant locality and made my way down town. 

At the time I write the railroad hadn't yet 
reached Searchlight. 

The nearest point of construction was Manvel, 
Cal., twenty-three miles away. 

By mere good fortune I learned that morning 
that the railroad company was shipping men 
through the Red Cross Employment Bureau to 
Manvel for construction work. 

I lost no time in visiting the Red Cross Agency, 
and was given a pass over the Sante Fe Railroad 
to Manvel. 

There were thirty-odd men in the crew I 
shipped with, mostly foreigners. 

We rode all night, and about 12 o'clock next 
day we reached Manvel. 

By keeping my eyes and ears open along the 
trip I easily spotted the men who had shipped 
out of Los Angeles as a means of reaching Search- 
light. 

At midnight when the rest of the camp was 
wrapped in deep slumber six men silently stole 



126 From North Carolina 

from the tents and struck out across the desert 
for Searchlight. 

The lights of the town could be plainly seen 
from the railroad camps, and it hardly seemed 
possible that those bright looking lights were 
twenty-three miles across the desert. 

Footsore, thirsty and tired we reached Search- 
light next morning. 

Searchlight contains fifteen business houses, 
and eleven of them are saloons, though its a very 
quiet and well-governed little town, and about 
the only excitement is when some lucky prospec- 
tor arrives with rich specimens of gold ore, dis- 
covered somewhere nearby in the surrounding 
desert — and this happens quite often. While I 
was there Mike Walsh, a very poor man, dis- 
covered a rich gold claim three miles north of 
Searchlight and sold it for |10,000. 

Any one can prospect if he's able to buy a grub 
stake. Eighty dollars will buy two burros and 
a three-months' grub stake for two men, and but 
little trouble is experienced in finding some 
veteran prospector w^ho'll accompany you in 
search for gold on halves. 

There are several good paying gold mines 
within a half mile of the town. 

One gold mine there is in full operation within 
thirty feet of Main street. It is worked by only 
three young men, who are the owners, and it is 
supposed they are making a small fortune. 



to Southern California, 127 

I got a job with Cook & Co. assisting to survey 
town lots, for which I was paid |3.50 per day. 

Later on I got a job with Mr. Fred. Ullman, 
proprietor of the Searchlight Hotel. I was taken 
on as porter in the bar-room and hotel, but upon 
learning to mix drinks, I was engaged as bar- 
tender, which job I held until Mr. Ullman sold 
out a few weeks later to a firm in Los Angeles. 

This threw me out of a job, but out of my sal- 
ary I had placed |50.00 in the Searchlight Bank. 

I now took a job at Doc's Kitchen washing 
dishes at two dollars and seventy-five cents per 
day. 

While engaged in this work my brother wrote 
me a long letter from home, saying they were all 
very anxious to see me and that mother had been 
taken seriously ill, worrying about me. 

For the first time since leaving home I began 
to feel homesick, so much so I had to give up 
my job, 

I decided to make a short visit to San Francisco 
and then start home. 

I bought a stage ticket to Nipton, Cal., and 
from that point purchased a ticket to Los Angeles. 
Next day I shipped from Los Angeles to Weed, 
Cal. Weed is in the Siskiyou Mountains, six 
hundred miles from Los Angeles. I deserted the 
train at Stockton, Cal., Avith another young fel- 
low, and we took the boat from this point to 
'Frisco. 



128 From North Carolina 

By this manoeuvering I saved nearly half the 
fare from Searchlight to San Francisco. 

I had a hard time finding a lodging house in 
'Frisco, for over four-fifths of the hotels had gone 
up in the big fire. After several hours of weary 
tramping about the streets, I found the St. 
George Hotel, a large frame building, erected 
temporarily on Mission street. 

Lodging in 'Frisco was high and board brought 
fabulous prices. 

Two weeks later I awoke to the realization that 
my fSO.OO had dwindled to |5.00. 

Part of this money had gone for a new suit of 
clothes, but the other had been spent for living 
expenses. 

I couldn't start for home with but |5.00, and 
only one other course was left — I must go to 
work. I didn't care to work in 'Frisco, though, 
for it was only skilled labor that was command- 
ing high prices. 

I met a young man in the hotel, P. A. Franck, 
from No. 3851 Juniata street, St. Louis, Mo., 
who had left his St. Louis home to make a for- 
tune in San Francisco, but disappointed with the 
poor wages paid for labor in 'Frisco compared 
with the high cost of living expenses, he readily 
agreed to leave with me. 

Murray & Ready's Employment Bureau, on 
Tenth and Market streets, shipped us three hun- 
dred miles to the Sugar Pine Mountains, in cen- 
tral California to work at a saw-mill. 



to Southern California. 129 

We left the train at Madera, Cal., at which 
town was located the Sugar Pine Company's 
office. 

From Madera we took a sixty-mile stage ride 
through the Sugar Pine Mountains to the saw- 
mill, arriving there late one afternoon. 

That night we learned that the mill owners 
had decided to close down the mill until the fol- 
lowing spring, and that, if we went to work, in 
all probability the job would give out by the time 
we had worked out our fare from San Francisco. 

That night we slept on the bare floor of a little 
log hut up the mountain side, the man in the 
company store saying all his bed covering had 
been sold out. 

The next morning we were both frozen nearly 
stiff ; we awoke before light and struck the trail 
back to Madera. 

I had a thirty-pound grip of clothing and 
Franck was weighted down with a still heavier 
grip and an overcoat. 

All day long we tramped over the mountains, 
and all the following night. 

By morning of the second day we were making 
scarcely a mile an hour, and were so near played 
out we were forced to rest every ten or fifteen 
minutes. Once Franck's shoe became untied, and 
in stooping to tie it he pitched heavily forward 
upon his hands and knees. 

Only once did we get anything to eat, the half- 



130 



From North Carolina 




iBMy 



THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY. 



Gooy-by, dear old Arizona. 
Good-by, sunny California. 

(Pro tem) to you both. 



to Southern California. 131 

way house sold us a scanty meal for 50 cents 
each. 

At last, scarcely able to stand up, we reached 
Madera. 

Afraid that the Sugar Pine Company would 
indict us for deserting, we spent our last penny 
for a ticket to Fresno, Cal. 

We got a job at Madera's planing mill in 
Fresno and found a lodging house at No. 846 I 
street, run by a Mrs. Dora Harrell, a widow. 

Two days later we were discharged, Mr. Ma- 
dera saying that we were the slowest two young 
men that had ever worked for him. 

The fact is, the two days he paid us for was 
like finding money, for after that long tramp in 
the Sugar Pine Mountains we were too weak to 
work. It was about all we could do to stand 
around the mill and watch the others work. 

Franck noAV placed his grip in the express office 
and bade me good-bye, saying he was going to 
hobo it to Los Angeles. 

I refused to accompany him, relating my ^^Rob- 
ert Smith" experience, but he was bent upon 
going, and with tears in our eyes we parted. 

Not long after I was taken ill, and for two 
weeks I was unable to leave my room. 

My money was all gone and I was in debt to 
my landlady for board. 

About this time I received another long letter 
from my brother, offering me a half interest in 



132 From North Carolina 

his grocery store, and advising me to come at 
once if I expected to find mother alive. 

I lost no time in telegraphing the following 
reply : 

"Will come immediately if you send ticket; 
otherwise I can't." 

Late the next day I received a telegraph order 
for ninety dollars. 

The telegraph company wrote out a check, 
which I got the Principal of the Fresno Business 
College to endorse. 

I purchased a ticket via Denver and Chicago, 
and after a long and tedious journey, I arrived 
in Tarboro. 

My mother was sleeping and dreaming of her 
boy in far off sun-bathed California, when, Avith 
a light kiss, I awoke her. I will never forget the 
glad cry that escaped her lips when she saw me 
home once again, safe and sound. 

It was Horace Greeley, the great American 
author, who said : "Young men go West." 

From what little I saw of this great, grand 
country beyond the Mississippi, I think it is good 
advice. There are more opportunities to make 
money and more money to be made, and the cli- 
mate is better ; but unless father and mother are 
dead, take the well-meant advice of a young man 
who has recently been West; only to learn that 
there was but one place on earth — "HOME." 

THE END. 



to Southern California. 133 

San Pedro, Cal., Aug. 8th, 1906. 
M. F. Vanranker, Esq., Supt. 

Dear Sir: — This will introduce Mr. John Peele, who would 
like to make application with you for work. I know him 
personally, and can recommend him to be an honest, sober, 
and energetic young man, and will make you an A.l. con- 
ductor, for he is very bright and quick. If you can use him 
you will make no mistake. 

Very respectfully yours, 

J. W. JENNINGS. 



St. Louis, Mo., Jan. 29, 1907. 
My Dear Friend Jack: 

I received your letter of the 11th inst. I have also been 
very busy — have been working steady since I got back 
home. I am very glad to hear that you appreciate my poor 
efforts at letter-writing. 

Too bad about your girl getting married. You are right 
about the girls all wanting to marry a man with money. 
I guess that's the reason I'm not married. Never mind, old 
chap, you will find another girl — there are others, don't you 
know. 

You state in your letter that since returning home you 
have been troubled with the asthma, and on account of the 
moist air and the land being so low and full of malaria you 
feared an attack of pneumonia. I hope you are well again 
and are rid of the cold. 

I see you are in the grocery business. That proposition 
is all right, if you stay at home for a few years. Stick to 
it, old chap, for awhile, anyway. 

I intend to stay at home for awhile, and any time I do 
go away I will let you know about it. Perhaps we may 
meet again out in the tall and uncut wild and wooly. 

Say, Jack, do you remember in San Francisco "Murry & 
Ready," the "St. George" where we stopped, "Madera," the 
"Sugar Pine Co.," the sixty-mile "stage ride," the run-away, 
the comfortable little cabin on the side of the hill where we 



134 From North Carolina 

slept that night, the long tramp next day out of the Sugar 
Pine Mountains, and the boss we had in Fresno at the 
Madera Planing Mill? Them were some great old times. 

My folks are all well, thank you. Trusting the same of 
yours, I will close, with kindest regards and best wishes. 
Your old side partner in California, 

PHIL. 

P. A. Franck, 3851 Juniata St., St. Louis, Mo. 

I was never in Paris or London, and have never crossed 
the pond anywhere. My only experience on the deep blue 
was a trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco. 

I agree with you we did a foolish stunt when we parted 
at Fresno, Cal. 

I am getting along real nice, working hard, staying at 
home, and saving my money. 

Am still an advocate of Physical Culture, and take my 
daily exercises, and perhaps this week will join the Central 
Y. M. C. A. here. 

I have not been able to find anything that weighs 35 lbs., 
so do not know if I can muscle it out, but will let you know 
as soon as I do. Pretty good work, old man, muscling out 
35 lbs. Keep up the good work. 



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